


The Rise and Fall of Mister Egret

by M_E_Lover



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Dark Finch, Extremely Probable Major Character death, Gen, Implied Sexual Assault, Implied Torture, Loss of a child (mentioned), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Psychotic Behavior, Torture, Violence, revenge torture, this is not a happy fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-05-26 11:58:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 22,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15000413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/M_E_Lover/pseuds/M_E_Lover
Summary: The war with Samaritan is over, the Machine was victorious but John Greer had a nasty surprise awaiting Harold Finch when all was said and done. A life altering surprise that turns Altruist Harold Finch into someone else.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Bear with me here. I'm not sure at this stage how this will end but chances are it will not end well. If you can stand the real possibility of losing Harold when the time comes then have at it, if not then I recommend skipping this dark story altogether.  
> Also I feel the need to point out that because Harold has been so emotionaly traumatized his actions are totally out of character. That is to say that he's been driven mad by the circumstance of having completely no control over what Grace is having to endure.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's willing to take this ride, please let me know what you think, good or bad, I would really appreciate your time and thoughts on it.
> 
> ***** And as always, special thanks to oddgit for being the best beta, cheerleader, instigator and all-round great friend out there! She encourages my predilection for all things Finch whump and makes me feel less guilty about it, hehe "You're terrific my friend!"

_“There’s one more thing…”_

They had found Harold sitting on the doorstep of Grace’s brownstone, at the height of winter, three years ago. John and Shaw had lost contact with him soon after their debacle with Congressman McCourt. In the end, they had abided by Harold’s wishes and left the politician alive, thus ensuring that Samaritan would come to fruition and spin the world in whatever direction it desired.

“ _I’d like you to avoid violence if at all possible… “_

And then Harold made the decision to cut ties with them without saying a word before disappearing without a trace right in the middle of the bustling city. They might never have heard from the recluse again, had it not been for Decima and their capture of the love of Harold’s life to draw him out and take him in exchange for her life.

_“But…If they harm Grace…in any way…”_

John would never forget the chill that ran down his spine from the foreboding words that came out of the mouth of the man that he once knew as Harold Finch. He would have bet his life that he would never have heard such deadly instructions come from his altruistic and benevolent partner’s mouth… and had it not been for the threat to Grace Hendricks life, John was sure he never would have.

_“Kill them all.”_

And now her life had been threatened once again, but with one agonizing difference. There were no demands put on Harold this time. She was taken from the safety and freedom of her life in Italy, not as leverage, but as punishment. 

Harold’s machine had taken John Greer and Samaritan down, and for that potential outcome John Greer had anticipated and pre-arranged for Grace to be captured, tortured and in a continuous state of great suffering should he die while Harold still lived. 

Greer instructed his remaining sycophants to send Harold an image, at times a short video, sent to his phone every hour on the hour, of the once beautiful and innocent woman, demoralized and beaten almost beyond recognition.

She was being bound naked and made to pose in various painful scenes in every depiction he received. The most excruciating images were the ones were she was made to interact with men who always wore masks while they forced her to participate in horrible scenes of sadistic carnal acts.

It was the absolute worst form of reckoning they could have ever devised and put Harold through. He was powerless to help her.

They had exhausted all resources to find her and Harold was tortured continuously by the sight of her suffering and his inability to save her from her plight. After two straight months of having to bear witness to the love of his life being tortured and sexually assaulted, he could take no more.

Harold had finally been broken irreparably, only to be replaced by someone new. Someone dark and sinister. Someone who would go to any lengths to save the woman he loves and destroy all who had threatened her.

Harold Finch was no more… he was now Mister Egret and John feared for everyone who came near him… including himself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mister Egret's true nature reveals itself.

 

When Elias had stated that, _‘Under all of Harold’s intellect he was darkest of them all’_ , truer words had never been spoken. When he went further and said _‘It was always the quiet ones you needed to be afraid of,’_ he was absolutely right. He had said it to Harold right here in this room and at the time Finch had told him that he was mistaken.

If Elias had lived to see this day, he no doubt would have enjoyed the irony and said _‘I told you so.’_

And the proof was staring John in the face right now.

“I don’t care what you said five minutes ago.” Harold backhanded the man across the face, personally this time. “You don’t seem to understand.” He slapped the dazed man again violently, nearly toppling him over with the chair he was zip-tied to. “I will have answers from you,” another vicious backhand to his bruised and bloodied face and he leaned over the man to drive his point home, “Give me something, damn you.”

He threatened the man with a low and menacing tone that sent goosebumps over John’s flesh with the intensity of its tenor.

The former Decima agent had been put through the ringer already between Shaw and himself and was still denying any knowledge of Grace’s whereabouts after six hours of intense interrogation.

They were both convinced the guy was telling the truth, but Harold wasn’t having any of it. It was as if he had been waiting for his chance to have the last stab at him, to test his ability to frighten the man with his bearing.

John was sure that Harold was achieving his goal because he himself felt intimidated by the way Harold was portraying himself.

Harold stood before the semi-conscious man and looked down at him before asking, “Sameen, isn’t it true that you had seen this man with Greer and his ilk while you were being held prisoner?” Harold turned towards Shaw and leered at her. “While you were being tortured?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” she answered gravely.

John could tell that even Shaw was shocked and apprehensive by Harold’s chilling persona.

Even the way he talked was different.

He had dropped the formality of using their last names when speaking to them, and that was only the beginning of the transformation they were witnessing. This wasn’t some act Harold had come up with.

This new identity had engulfed the Harold they had known and admired entirely and Shaw too, was highly concerned about what lengths he was willing to go to in order to save the woman he loved.

The man in the chair had almost reached his breaking point and began to sob quietly as Harold rubbed the back of his hand and glared at him ominously.

The tension in the room was palpable.

“I told you everything I know,” the man sniffled weakly. “I swear I have no idea where they’re holding her.” The man dared to look Harold in the eyes as he begged, “Please, just let me sleep.”

A frightening calm came over Harold and he grinned at the man. “I believe you,” he announced quietly. “Which means I'll give you what you've asked for... " He moved his hand under his suit coat and pulled a gun from the back of his waistband and pointed it at the man’s heart. "You can sleep now.”

Harold pulled the trigger and the man immediately slumped forward in the chair.

It happened so quickly and unexpectedly, that John and Shaw both hurried over to the dead man and stood there in shock as Harold inspected the gun in his hand.

“You know… that was rather anti-climactic,” he remarked casually and smirked, “I thought I'd feel at least a little bit of... I don't know...  _something_.” 

John stared and Shaw’s eyes narrowed at the sight of the man in the chair. They couldn’t wrap their heads around what they just saw.

“What is it Sameen?” Harold asked pointedly, “Wasn’t it you who wanted me to be more proactive in our work?”

Shaw looked up at Harold, speechless.

“Now, go find and bring me the next man on the list.” He ordered. “As soon as you get back with him and he’s able to see what becomes of those who will not…” Harold grinned wickedly and looked back at the dead man, “or cannot comply, you can load the body up and dispose of it.”

John shook himself and took Shaw by the arm and led her towards the door.

“And make it quick, we need answers…” Harold called after them. “Now!”

********

They got to the car without a word and Shaw slipped in to the driver’s seat.

“I’m not sure I believe what just happened,” she stated in bewilderment.

John shook his head solemnly, "He's gone off the deep end.”

“You think?” Shaw replied. “If it wasn’t Finch we were talking about, I’d say let it be.” She started the car and pulled out into traffic, “I used to do that kind of shit on a daily basis.”

“That’s the thing, Shaw,” John stared out the front windshield somberly, “This isn’t Finch were talking about here… this is someone else and I don’t know what to do about it.”  

“The only thing we can do is get Grace back.” Shaw replied reflectively, “Then we pray that we get our Harold back.”

John took a deep breath and shook his head absently. He hadn’t been sleeping much since this new side of his partner showed itself, and thought until today that it might just be a temporary stage he was going through in an attempt to cope with the traumatic situation he had no control over.

But those hopes were dashed as soon as Harold pulled the trigger and ended a man’s life. There was no hesitation in his action and no regret whatsoever.

No… their Finch didn’t exist anymore and John was under no illusion they’d ever see him again.


	3. Chapter 3

The next man on the list wasn’t very hard to find. Unlike his former associate, the man that would always be known in the back of John’s mind as ‘ _Harold’s first kill_ ,’ this man was freely advertising his murderous capabilities on the street.

It was for this reason alone that John didn’t have what was about to happen to the guy weigh too heavily on his mind.

Shaw was going to pretend to be a woman that was being abused by her boyfriend and had enough of it. She approached the man in a bar, took the chair next to him and began her ruse.

She ordered a cosmopolitan martini from the bartender meekly, and acted as if she was afraid of the world.

Her act was spot on and the former Decima agent asked her, “Are you alright, honey?” The man had noticed her beauty right off the bat and wasn't afraid to gawk at her openly.

She looked at the man, smiled nervously, and nodded.

The man saw the red mark on the side of her face that she'd put on with some blush just before John dropped her off on the corner of the street. It was pretty damn convincing she thought at the time, and John had agreed.

Now all she had to do was play innocent and defenseless to keep the guy invested in her welfare. She could tell already that he was looking to get more acquainted when he turned towards her in his seat to face her.

“Are you sure?” he asked attentively. “You’ve been hurt. Were you in some kind of accident or something? That’s quite the shiner you have blooming there on your face.”

Shaw knew he was already hooked, “Um…” she looked around nervously, pretending to be afraid of everything around her. “Look,” she started. “You may want to just turn around, pretend you didn’t notice anything; my boyfriend is going to be here any second and I’m not supposed to talk to anyone.” She looked towards the door anxiously, “especially a man.”

The guy scoffed and puffed himself up, “Listen, if your boyfriend is the one that did this to you, then I suggest you find someone else.” He put his hand over Shaw’s and gave it a gentle squeeze, “You’re a beautiful woman; you should have a man that appreciates that beauty, not mars it.”

Shaw pulled her hand away quickly and stood up, “Please mister, you have no idea what he’s capable of, just… I’ve tried to leave him before but he’s relentless and if he sees us talking there’s no telling what he’ll do to me.”

She quickly moved down a few seats before the man could say anything in reply and John moved on her signal. It was his turn to join in the act.

The man watched John come in and make a direct bee-line to her at the bar, eyeballing the other patrons to make sure she hadn’t talked to anyone. “You started without me?” he asked her irritably.

Shaw played coy, “No, of course not,” she replied nervously while covertly making eye contact with the guy that was watching the two of them with increasing interest.

The bartender started to approach them and John shook his head at his impending question of whether John wanted a drink or not. The bartender turned away and went back to whatever he had been doing while their mark continued to observe the scene quietly.

“You… you don’t want to have a drink?” Shaw asked nervously.

John’s scornful tone made his intentions clear. “No, I want you to hurry up and finish yours while I wait for you outside,” he stated angrily. “Make it quick; you can make me a drink at home after we’ve… _talked_.” He turned and walked out, leaving Shaw to take a long sip of her drink, hurrying to drain the glass.

The man stood up and walked over to her.

Shaw was playing her role to perfection as her hands trembled with artificial fear, shaking the remaining contents of the glass.

The guy pulled out a business card and put it in front of her on the bar. “You need to get away from that guy,” he insisted, “I can help you with that.”

Shaw looked towards the door pretending as if she was afraid 'her boyfriend' might come back at any second, “I… I don’t know…” she stammered. “He’s dangerous. He’ll probably kill me next time.”

“Then don’t let there be a next time,” he said quietly and smiled. “Let me handle it for you.” he placed his hand on the small of her back as if to reassure her.

“I… I don’t have a lot of money,” she said quietly as she stood up and made ready to leave.

“It’s not always about the money in my line of work.” He smiled suggestively and looked Shaw up and down. “You have so much more than cash to offer a guy like me.”

Shaw pretended to be torn about it but quickly made eye contact with him and leaned in, “When do you think you could... _help me_?” she whispered.

The man smiled lasciviously, “I’ll follow you out and take care of him right now, if you’d like.”

Shaw looked around the room timidly again before nodding her head in agreement. The man smiled and put forty bucks on the bar to pay for their drinks, “I’ll be right behind you, just pretend we haven’t talked. I’ll see where he’s parked and take it from there.”

Shaw took a deep breath pretending to be nervous then headed for the door. The man waited a few seconds then followed behind her, keeping a bit of distance while they walked towards an opening between the buildings. Shaw picked up speed and rounded the corner, walking briskly into the mouth of the alleyway.

There was a car parked a couple hundred yards, down presumably with John inside.

The man was going to get just close enough that he could get the plate number then use his resources to find an address affiliated with it.

Shaw walked past a dumpster and the guy maintained his distance for now. When he had gone as far as the same dumpster John suddenly came around and cold-cocked the man, rendering him immediately unconscious. 

“That was fun,” Shaw announced as she drove the car to the spot and unlatched the trunk.

“Whatever you say.” John searched the guy for weapons then zip-tied his arms behind his back.

Shaw hurried around and took the two fire-arms John had found while he manhandled the guy inside and slammed the lid.

They got in and headed for the safe-house. “I think Finch is going to be pleased.” Shaw pulled into traffic while John offered no answer to her statement.

John was struggling with Harold’s new personality. He was congenial enough but in a cold and disturbing way and John was beginning to question his sanity. The drive was quiet until they reached the residence.

“Let’s hope this guy has some information. Grace isn’t going to be able to hold out much longer.” Shaw shook her head in disgust, “Damn Greer and his minions, even in death he’s a menace. We have to get her back.”

John took a deep breath, “Let’s get this over with.”

They parked in the private driveway and opened the trunk while the man was coming to. “What the fuck is this?” the man spat angrily while John lifted his upper body and pulled him out.

Shaw regarded him coolly, “Look bozo, you’d better play nice or you won’t last long with our boss’s temper being what it is these days.”

“Fuck you, bitch!” he answered angrily.

“Yeah well don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Shaw shook her head and grabbed him forcibly by the arm. “Dumb ass.”

John followed behind and pushed him in the back a couple of times with the barrel of his gun to let him know there was nothing for him to gain by resisting.

He looked back at John and sneered while they led the obstinate man to the main room.

Harold was sitting with full a glass of Scotch in one hand and his phone in the other, staring dispassionately at the man he’d killed earlier.

This was another indication that Harold had manifested into an altogether different man. This persona frequently had a drink in his hands.

John had only ever shared an alcoholic beverage with Finch in the past a mere handful of times over the years. Harold had always taken his responsibilities very seriously and had never allowed himself to put anyone else’s life at risk by, as he would say, _polluting his mind with needless stimulants._

The very idea of doing anything that could hinder his ability to make the right call at any given moment had been abhorrent to him. When Harold had a libation in the past, he drank only to signify a triumph or a tragedy, regarding it as a way to represent and honor an important event that had happened in their lives.

As soon as they got inside the house, John could practically feel the atmosphere in the room charged with a manic energy.

“It’s about time you got back,” Harold remarked testily and turned his upper body towards them. “What took you so damn long?”

They drug their quarry over to where Harold was, sitting him down in a chair beside his dead former colleague and zip-tied the man’s arms and ankles to the chair. The man glanced at the body beside him nervously.

Harold leered at the new prisoner, “I trust my associates have told you ahead of time just how far I’m willing to go to get answers?” Harold leaned forward in his chair towards the irate and confused man.

“I have no fucking clue who you are or what you want from me you son of a bitch!” the man hardly had time to take a breath before Harold slapped him hard across the face, sending stars through his vision.

Harold turned towards John and Shaw impatiently, “I expected you two to at least have given him an idea of what he was here for.” He made the remark calmly but they both knew he was anything but as he turned toward the dazed man again.

The man answered Harold’s frightening glare. “Look, what do you want to know? If I can help you maybe we can make a deal.”

“The only deal we’re going to make here, Mister James, is just how much longer I will allow you to live once I’ve discovered how useful you are to me.”

Harold’s words dripped malice and the man visibly startled as he continued.

“You see, I have had someone taken from me, someone I hold very dear, and I will get her back one way or another, with… or without you.” He sat forward in his chair and thrummed his fingers against the scotch glass and quietly observed the nervous man and waited.

“I haven’t taken anyone. I have no fucking idea who you’re talking about!” The man was confused and even more so when once again Harold slapped him viciously open handed across the face.

“You’ll find that I don’t take well to profanity directed towards me Kevin.” He grinned maliciously and took a sip of scotch while the man regained his senses.

He’d never spilled a drop either time.

“Now… let’s start again, shall we?”


	4. Chapter 4

“Okay listen, I really have no idea what you want from me, just tell me exactly what it is and if I know anything I’ll tell you, okay?” the man glanced to the side again and quickly turned away from the dead man with a bloody hole in his chest.

Harold grinned and laid his drink and his phone down on the table near his chair, and directed his attention back to the cowering man.

John and Shaw moved over to stand on either side of Harold as he went to work intimidating him.

As they stood there, John didn’t need to look at the time to see that it was at the top of the hour.

He noticed Harold’s phone light up with the latest image of Grace on the screen in another horrifying position of torture.

The photo lasted only a few seconds before it disappeared. Mercifully, Harold hadn’t seen it before it faded out and John’s heart ached anew for his friend.

Now he knew why Harold had been holding it until this moment, he was anticipating getting it. But thankfully, his mind was now distracted with the new man in the chair.

Both he and Shaw knew that since day one, Harold had been torturing himself needlessly by looking at each and every thing he received from Grace’s captors.

At first, John tried to convince him not to look at the images, that he would view them for him instead so he didn’t have to go through the constant agonizing reminders of her torment.

But Harold would have none of it. He explained to John that if she had to endure, then so did he, and John was convinced that it was for this reason alone that Harold had gone from the altruistic humanitarian he’d grown to love and respect into the torturing murderer he was becoming.

John blamed himself. If only he’d been more insistent from the beginning maybe he could have prevented the self-destructive path of hatred and retribution that Harold had set himself upon.

John shook himself from his thoughts as Harold began to speak to his new prisoner again.

He seemed completely relaxed now, a far different mood than ten seconds ago and his voice had gone low and ominous. “First off, I wanted you to see the evidence of what becomes of people that don’t have anything to offer me in finding my Grace.”

Harold glowered at the man and watched a full body shudder travel through him. “Just take a good look to your left, Kevin.”

Harold picked up his glass and took another swallow of his drink, momentarily pleased from receiving such a visceral reaction of fear from his captive.

But the man was slow to comply; he didn’t want to see the murdered man again and Harold immediately lost all composure.

In one fluid motion he flung the remaining contents of his glass straight in the man’s face then simply let the glass fall to the floor as he stood up and circled behind him. The man gasped and spluttered, dazed and completely caught off guard by the suddenness of the action.

Harold stood behind him, put his hands on his shoulders and began to squeeze. He leaned in to speak directly in to his ear quietly. “You’ll find that when I ask a question or tell you to do something…” His voice was deep and intimidating, and he spoke with unnatural calm. “You’d do well to comply immediately… lest you force me to hurt you.”

Evidently, Harold had enjoyed the last session of interrogation so much he didn’t bother having John or Shaw start on the guy this time.

They watched on in stunned silence, as Harold continued to threaten his captive brazenly.

John’s heart beat wildly in his chest. He knew he’d never be able to accept or to stomach that this unrecognizable facsimile had once been his benevolent partner.

He was now doling out extreme measures and relishing this new behavior to a frightening degree, not even knowing yet if the man he was terrorizing had anything useful to offer.

The man winced in pain from the pressure of Harold's strong hands applying increasing force to his shoulders, unable to move as he trembled in the chair. A look of sadistic satisfaction crossed Harold’s features. He moved back around and sat down, making himself comfortable and started again.

“So Kevin, what I want to know from you specifically is,” and now a predatory and feral expression appeared as he raised his voice and demanded with unabashed fury, “Where in the hell is my wife!?”

John and Shaw looked at each other with utter incredulity. Not only were Harold’s unpredictable moods changing at the drop of a hat, they had never before heard him refer to Grace as his wife.

John then saw the look of disbelief and the terrible realization that Harold’s sanity might be in question finally appear on Shaw’s face.  She realized in that instance just how worrisome everything they had to deal with just became.

John knew that he was no longer alone in his fear for the man that had saved both their lives. Now, together, maybe they could at least discuss what might possibly be done to save Harold not only from the thugs and professional killers they were up against in searching for Grace… but from himself.

“Listen… please just… listen…” Kevin stammered ineffectually as the alcohol still dripped from his face, “I have no idea who this woman is that you’re looking for. I swear I’ve never heard her name before today.”

Harold took in a deep, audible breath of frustration, and glared at him again before he turned towards Shaw. “Sameen, I’d like you to show me some of the torture techniques you’ve learned over the years,” he announced eagerly. “I realize, of course, I could just google the information, but where would the fun be in that? There’s nothing like taking a hands on approach in educating oneself with something so… enthralling… and dare I say, titillating.”

The look on Harold’s face now was of pure excitement from the thought of being able to get his hands dirty, and with that statement, John’s blood ran cold. Not only was Harold enjoying this new unsettling side of himself, it seemed as though he was getting off on it in some dark, disturbing way.

John couldn’t fathom it. Over the past few weeks his partner seemed to have become more and more deranged and he didn’t know how much more he could stand to watch. He prayed that Harold wasn’t beyond help but from what was being displayed, it didn’t look good. He had to try and calm him down.

“Finch, why don’t we…,” he started to try and dissuade Harold from his enthusiastic approach of torturing the guy before they questioned him outright first and was immediately cut off from his proposition. Harold spun around and glared at John enraged.

“Don’t ever call me by that name again,” he demanded maliciously. “That man was weak and pathetic; he was a doormat for every other human being he’d ever known… Don’t you dare utter it to me again… not ever!”

Shaw was absolutely floored by the heated vitriol that Harold directed at his loyal partner and protector and practically had to pick her jaw up from the floor. She looked at John’s shocked and pained expression and could see Harold’s words cutting into him like daggers.

“Do you understand me?” Through every hateful second of Harold’s attack on John, he stood there radiating menace and his demeanor screamed ‘ _don’t fuck with me._ ’ 

John’s heart was in his throat and for a long moment he couldn’t form words.

“I asked you if you understand me John?” Harold’s voice had gone low and ominous as he waited for John’s reply. 

“Yeah, I understand.” he answered quietly. He felt gutted as Harold continued to scowl at him until almost instantly his entire demeanor switched gears again and he was practically jovial.

“I’m sorry John, I really don’t know what got into me for a moment,” Harold laughed it off, “Please… forgive me?” Harold offered his hand out for John to shake. “Please?” he asked again hopefully.

John regained his senses and accepted his partner’s hand and Harold shook it. “Thank you John.” Harold smiled at him with relief.

“Well then Sameen, if you’d care to show me a small example of something basic perhaps?” Harold turned back to his prisoner and looked at him, shaking his head. “You could save yourself a lot of pain and misery if you just tell me now where she is, Kevin…” he grinned at the man, “Or we could spend hours, or days even, torturing you for the information, it’s your choice.”

“I swear mister, I don’t know anything.” He tried quickly to plead his case, “When I left Decima, I cut ties with everyone I knew there. There’s no one I’ve stayed in contact with. I’m my own boss now.”

“Well that’s too bad for you, then.” Harold pulled the gun he now always carried on him and trained it on the man’s chest. “If you are of no help to me, I don’t need you taking up space. Are you sure you don’t know anything?”

“Wait, please…” the man stared at the barrel pointing at his heart, “I might know how to find something out for you. I may still be able to get in touch with some of the people I knew when I was there, maybe they know something.”

“See Kevin, that’s more like it,” Harold laid the gun down next to his cell phone and stood looking down at the man, grinning, “You could have saved yourself considerable stress had you just said so in the first place. Now the thing is,” he suddenly and for no apparent reason slapped the man across the face again, while John and Shaw stood dumbfounded watching the display, “you’ve wasted valuable time and for that you must be punished.” The man braced himself as Harold raised his hand to hit him again but Shaw spoke up before the blow landed.

“Harold!” she exclaimed, interrupting him quickly.

He turned on her, rage filling his every pore as he leered at her angrily, “If you keep this up... we won’t be able to get any information from him.” Shaw walked towards him, “Think about it.” She explained in a gentler tone, “You have to let him talk, you’re the one wasting time now.”

John watched in abject fear of what Harold was going to do because of Shaw’s interference. He was so unpredictable right now he wouldn’t put it past him to threaten her now as well.

Harold backed off and once again apologized for his behavior, “My God, Sameen. You’re right.” Harold visibly deflated and a look of confusion came over him. He furrowed his brows and shook his head, “I don’t know what’s happening to me… I’m sorry.”

“When was the last time you slept Harold?” John asked gently.

Shaw took him by the arm and led him to sit down on the couch while John focused on getting the prisoner ready to move into another room, all the while watching Harold’s manic façade slowly crumble into quiet exhaustion.

“Well Harold?” Shaw prompted him, “How long has it been?” She was really getting nervous about Harold’s immediate behavior now that they had witnessed such a vast array of emotional upheaval in such a short period of time. He was primed for a mental breakdown and she would do everything in her power to avoid it.

“I… I’m honestly not sure,” he answered quietly. “But it doesn’t matter, we have to find Grace soon... or we’ll be too late.” Tears welled up in Harold’s eyes and spilled down his cheeks as he sat there silently, seemingly lost in thought.

John and Shaw looked at each other, both worried beyond words.

“I’m going to get this guy set up in the back bedroom and question him while you get a little shut eye Harold.” John pulled the nervous guy onto his feet and turned him around and zip-tied his hands behind his back again.

“No, I have to get him to talk… please you don’t understand,” Harold begged weakly, “I have to find her, John… I have to.” As he sat there pleading he sat back against the cushion and began to nod off while the words continued to flow softly, “I have to… I have to... save her…” until they tapered off and he fell into an uneasy sleep.

Shaw stood and watched him, emotions she didn’t know she had, crept into her and made her heart constrict from the sight. She looked at John’s miserable expression and shook her head in disbelief.

John pulled the guy by the arm and started leading him, “Come on.” With a motion of his head he silently directed Shaw to follow him to the back of the house.

The three of them got to the room and Shaw closed the door while John tied the guy to a chair, “Your boss has lost his marbles,” he stated plainly. “Or is he always like that?”

“Shut your mouth asshole,” Shaw demanded.

She pulled a roll of duct tape from a drawer in the desk that sat in the corner of the room.

“Look, I’ll stay quiet, you don’t have to… mph!” She taped the guys mouth shut with a little more force than strictly necessary and turned to John who had sat himself down on the edge of the bed.

“We’ll be back shortly, so just relax for now.” Shaw nodded towards the door and John stood up and followed her, closing it behind them as they made their way to the next room.

“He’s right, John,” Shaw stated gloomily and turned to meet his eyes. “Harold's borderline psychotic and it scares the hell out of me.”

“I know,” John sat down, “It’s been happening for some time and you haven’t bothered to listen to me until now,” he replied sarcastically. “Don’t you think it's strange we haven’t received a new number in weeks?”

“Yeah, but I figured the Machine was just letting its father have some time away from distractions while Grace is out there.”

John closed his eyes, “I think he’s been ignoring them, Shaw,” he looked at her earnestly. “I think the man we knew is gone now… he’s lost to us.”

Shaw didn’t even want to contemplate that being true. “Maybe he’s just buried right now and we have to dig him out from under his stress and exhaustion.” She shook her head with worry, “There may still be a chance, John. We have to try.”

“Harold killed a man, Shaw,” John stated tersely. “The man we knew… would never have done that, buried or not. Finch is gone. You heard it yourself; he made it as plain as day.”

“Jesus…” she replied anxiously, “What do we do?”

“We find Grace. She’s his only hope.” John stood up, “I’ll go check on him, make sure he’s still asleep. You go find out from Kevin what he knows.”

Shaw nodded and they left the room, each intent on their purposes.


	5. Chapter 5

 

John walked back to Harold still passed out on the couch and felt tears stinging his eyes the closer he got to him. He swallowed down the lump in his throat, seeing just how drained and vulnerable his partner looked as he slept.

He took a shuddering breath and mourned what had been lost in such a short period of time. Gone was the benevolent and gentle soul that had saved him from certain death and gave his life value and meaning again.

The kindest and most generous and compassionate man he’d ever had the privilege of knowing... was no more. Harold Finch, the benevolent altruist and pacifist, the temperate man that had represented everything good in humanity, had been slain only to be replaced with the polar opposite of what that man had always stood for and believed in.

His partner had been and utterly and irrevocably transformed by a heinous villain that didn’t even exist in their world anymore, and Greer's sick idea of revenge had been precise in its goal and flawlessly executed.

John Greer had done so much more than destroy his former adversary. He’d created a monster of unpredictable and disturbing tendencies to rise up and overshadow everything great and good that Harold Finch had ever accomplished.

Greer’s twisted arrangement of retribution had generated and unleashed a dark facsimile of the man John had known for years and had thrown him completely and explicitly off guard.

This Harold was capable of anything and everything, and it troubled John to no end to see the horrible things happening around him and not being able to stop it.

John’s heart constricted painfully in his chest as he sat down and watched Harold sleep fitfully. He was helpless to repair the vast, irrevocable damage that had been done to the man that means the most to him in the world.

Sadly, he knew he’d never see that man again. It was going to be the hardest thing he’d ever tried to accomplish, but he would sooner let the world end than to see Harold take another life and enjoy it.

He couldn’t let his friend continue to tarnish the memory of who he was by killing another human being, whether it was warranted or not… not again.

John understood what had to be done… he had to get Shaw on board and choose the right time and opportunity to get the task accomplished without physically hurting Harold in the process.

As much as the idea killed John’s soul, they needed to have Harold committed. Only in going so far and doing that could John hope to get the help his partner so desperately needs.

Harold shifted on the couch and whimpered behind his closed eyelids, pleading desperately. _‘Grace… please, no.’_ he murmured softly, _‘Oh God, please let her be… don’t hurt her anymore, please…’_  John’s heart was breaking for his friend as he struggled with God only knows what in his nightmares.

He could see a glimpse of the man he knew not so very long ago and as much as he knew Harold needed to sleep, he couldn’t stand to watch him endure whatever terror was happening in his dreams. “Harold, wake up…” John leaned over and grasped Harold’s forearm and shook him gently. _‘Please… please stop…’_ Harold was becoming more agitated and upset and John wanted to wake him from the distress he was undergoing.

He sat beside him on the couch and gently shook him by the shoulder. “Harold, wake up,” he spoke louder and Harold finally opened his eyes and looked at John with absolute fear in his expression.

John saw his old partner clearly for a few fleeting, but hopeful seconds before his eyes hardened and the other man appeared.

Harold sat forward quickly, the sudden movement shooting a twinge of pain through his spine and into the back of his head. He winced and his hand flew to his neck instinctively. He glared at John, “Jesus Christ what are you doing!” he exclaimed angrily.

“I’m sorry, Finch, you were having a bad dream.” John apologized sincerely and got another vicious response from Harold in return.

“I told you never use that name with me again. Is there something wrong with your memory?” He rubbed the back of his neck and glared, waiting for a reply while John felt his world crashing down around him.

“Yes, I mean no…” John stammered. “I’m sorry, I just forgot.” John took a deep a breath and stood up, turning his back to Harold while he tried to get a grip on his emotions.

“Don’t do it again.” Harold sat back against the couch, “We’re is Sameen and our prisoner?” he asked irritably.

“She’s questioning him in the back.” He turned back to face Harold again and tried his damnedest to convince him to get some sleep. “Look Harold, you haven’t slept in what? Days?” he asked sternly. “How many Harold? Four… five?” He went further when he didn’t get any argument from his stubborn partner. “You know as well as I do that no one can go indefinitely without it. Please, just go in the bedroom and get a few hours and Shaw and I will handle things for a while on our own.”

Harold’s demeanor softened from the look and the earnest and heartfelt concern for him in John’s eyes. “How can you ask me to rest when Grace is still out there being tortured and… assaulted?” Harold could barely to say the word out loud. He looked at John pleadingly, “You know what they’re doing to her John, and you can’t tell me you would take one second’s respite if it were the woman you loved.”

John took a deep breath. He couldn’t argue against that statement but he had to try once more. “Harold…” He sat back down next to him on the couch and steeled himself for what he was about to say. “Listen to me and don’t interrupt, alright?”

Harold took a deep breath and nodded. “Haven’t you noticed how much you’ve changed over the past few weeks?”

John studied Harold’s face as he continued, gaging his reactions, “You’re not the same man I knew before this nightmare with Grace happened.”

Harold stiffened at the sound of her name, John could tell he hit a nerve so he hurried his entreaty, “you’ve changed so much I don’t recognize you anymore.”

Harold almost spoke up but bit back his reply and began to feel more and more anger and frustration building as John continued.

John noticed it too, so he went on quickly, “If you don’t at least try to get a few hours of sleep, you’re going to have a complete breakdown. I don’t want to see that, please Harold… sleep for just a few hours”

“Are you finished?” Harold asked irritably.

John sighed and slowly nodded. “Yeah, I’m done.” His plea fell on deaf ears, he knew it the instant he said Grace’s name.

“When we save her, I will rest… not before.” Harold picked up his phone and looked at the screen. John watched his eyes close and his breathing change as he fought the urge to cry out in rage and grief. He handed the cell to John and stood up pointing at it angrily. “How could I ever rest knowing _that's_ happening to her?”

John didn’t need to look at the image, he’d already seen it when Harold was going at the guy just a few minutes ago. He didn’t know what to say.

Nothing was going to dissuade Harold’s sole purpose of finding her whatever the cost. Whether Harold ran himself into the ground or something else happens, he was absolutely intent on doing whatever he deemed necessary… and John couldn’t blame him.


	6. Chapter 6

Shaw got back to the room and was annoyed when she saw that Harold was wide awake. “We have a new lead.” She announced irritably.

She handed a name to Harold and he snatched it from her and immediately limped over to his laptop to work on locating the man. “Kevin didn’t make any promises Harold, he only said that he knew this guy during Greer’s reign of Decima.” She added.

“Yes well, he’d better hope we get some useful information from this name.” Harold answered impatiently. “I’ll soon know where you two can pick him up, we can’t afford to waste any more time.” 

As he proceeded to type away like a madman, Shaw looked at John and motioned him away from Harold’s earshot.

“I know, I know.” John answered her look, “I had to wake him up; he was having a horrible nightmare.”

“He was asleep for what? Fifteen… twenty minutes?” she shook her head irritably.

“I couldn’t let him sleep, Shaw.” John looked towards his partner, “He was dreaming about Grace being tortured.”

Shaw shook her head sympathetically, then pulled an empty pill bottle out of her pocket and handed it to John, “I found this buried under some trash in one of the waste baskets in back.” She looked at Harold now, still intently focused on digging for information on the new name. “He’s been doping to stay awake, now we know why he’s so damned moody. He’s been taking uppers.”

“Christ.” John couldn’t believe it. “Harold has never relied on pharmaceuticals before, not even for his pain.” John took a Hail Mary stab and asked her expectantly, “Could this be enough to throw him completely out of character? Is this the reason he’s changed so drastically?”

Shaw looked up at John and shook her head minutely, “No, John, what’s happened to his conscience and moral code has nothing to do with pills.” She explained her take on it, “I believe he’s been driven over the edge by what’s out of his control, by what John Greer has been able to do to him through Grace…” She clenched her teeth angrily, “Harold’s mind is gone, he’s forgotten his principles, and we can’t get retribution for that loss from a dead man.”

John felt a pain in his chest at her statement, although he already knew as much. He took another deep breath and closed his eyes, “I can’t watch it anymore Shaw.” He looked at her earnestly, “After we check out this new lead and we see where it goes, you and I have to talk about what needs to happen. Harold needs help and I’m going to see that he gets it.”

She nodded, “Let’s hope this new lead pans out and we find Grace. Once she’s safe, we’ll be able to get a better handle on just how far gone he is and what steps need to be taken.”

“I’ve got the bastard!” Harold announced excitedly, “Jason Moore of Queens is currently at his place of employ and you two need to get going.” Harold handed Shaw the address. “Bring him back here as soon as you possibly can. We’ll let him get a look at what happens to those who don’t help us.” He grinned towards the dead body still sitting in the chair.

John and Shaw looked at the murdered man too, a troubling reminder of Harold’s debauched state of mind, “We’ll be back.” Shaw said and turned towards the door.

She had been trying to take everything into consideration and no matter how bad it looked at the moment, she wasn’t going to accept that they had lost Harold for good. She knew how despondent John felt but _she_ still had hope that they could get him back after all was said and done. They had to save Grace, she was the key to Harold’s sanity and his only real hope. After that and with much needed psychiatric care there was still a chance to find the man that had been taken from them.

“And in the meantime Harold,” John suggested tentatively, “get some rest?”

Harold nodded vaguely, “I’ll take it into consideration, now go… and hurry!” 

Harold watched them leave and shook his head, ‘ _Rest he says.’_ He thought indignantly _._ As soon as the door closed behind them, Harold made a beeline to the room his quarry now occupied.

*************

They’d pulled into a small strip mall where the man they were sent after now spent his days. A small, neglected electronics store that rarely had any customers with the availability of online shopping at an all-time high.

“This is going to be easier than I thought,” Shaw remarked as they looked inside the large glass windows making up the front of the shop.

It was about ten in the morning and there wasn’t another soul around the derelict area. The two other stores that were adjacent were as run-down as this one, neither of them could figure out how the place survived.

“Shaw…?” John hesitated.

“What?” She could see the indecision on John’s face and knew he was questioning what they were about to do. “You’re not backing out of this, are you?” she asked.

He looked at her ruefully. “If we take this guy back with us,” he shook his head in disbelief of what he was thinking. “Even if he doesn’t know anything, he may end up dead.”

“Yeah, there’s a good possibility he might,” she answered succinctly. “So what are you proposing? Because we can’t just say that he got away. Finch wouldn’t believe us number one, but what if the guy does know something about Grace? We can’t take the chance of letting him go if it means allowing her to be brutalized for another second. If this guy has any information we need to know immediately.”

John nodded in acquiescence, although he didn’t like the idea of assuming that all these former Decima agents had any answers.

Grace had to be found immediately, she wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer. There were only a small handful of Greer’s henchmen that had survived the war and might have knowledge outside of what they were ordered to do at the time.

Gregory Travers had been the primary agent that had survived after Samaritan had been taken down. He was Greer’s right hand man following the loss of Martine, Zachary and Jeremy Lambert.

Travers had been there when Harold and Greer were made to face off at Fort Meade. He’d made sure Greer and Harold had been locked in the room that Greer had ultimately died and Harold very nearly perished in as well.

Harold had been searching for him relentlessly, day and night, ever since Grace had been taken with no results. Knowing he was still out there, and the man most likely responsible for carrying out Greer’s order to find and torture Grace, had been eating away at Harold like a plague.  

John and Shaw both knew that the men who had Grace now were probably few in numbers and most likely only fulfilling Greer’s last order out of loyalty to the villainous man.

But Harold had convinced himself that every single person that had ever worked for Decima might know something about Grace and had made it his own personal mission to get that information from them by whatever means he deemed necessary.

Shaw opened the car door and got out, John followed behind her. They walked inside the store to find the man staring at them like he already knew why they were there. Shaw didn’t recognize him but that didn’t mean he didn’t know who they were.

They knew that every Decima agent was compelled to memorize all of their faces. The guy was spooked, it was obvious, they walked over to him and Shaw grinned at him cheekily.

“Can I… is there something I can help you with?” He was nervous and sweat had broken out on his brow. John almost felt sorry for him.

“Yeah, we’re here for you but I think you already know that.” Shaw smiled and immediately pulled a gun from somewhere hidden and pointed it at him.

The man’s eyes widened as he saw the intent clearly displayed. “I… I don’t… I don’t understand,” he stammered. “I don’t know you people.”

“Yes, well.” Shaw pulled out the photo that Harold had supplied of the man dressed in the customary black garb that Greer’s people all wore. She held it up to him. “We know you, Jason, and you’re coming with us.”

The man stood stark still, not offering to move a muscle as he stared first at the picture and then the gun.

“We can do this the easy way.” John pulled his own gun, “Or we can just kill you now and be done with it.”

“Look, I have no idea who you think I am but…”

Shaw cut him off, “We know exactly who you are and you’re coming with us whether you walk out on your own two feet or we drag you out.”

“Trust me,” John looked the man in the eyes, “You don’t want us to have to knock you out.” He nodded towards Shaw, “she has way too much fun with that and I can guarantee a hell of a headache when you wake up.”

“Get with the program, Jason. Let’s go.” Shaw rolled her eyes when the man shook his head insistently.

“Please… I only worked for Decima for a few months, I don’t know anything, I was only a lowly peon… what could you possibly think I would know?” The man was sweating profusely now.

Shaw’s patience was wearing thin, “It’s not what _‘we’_ think you may know, it’s what our employer thinks that matters.” Shaw waved her gun towards the door, “Let’s go Jason... now.”

The man took a deep breath before complying, “Good…” Shaw commented as the man walked around the counter. “You’re saving yourself a lot of discomfort, for now,” she remarked casually, “although I can’t promise anything about later.”

John gave her a stern look, “Wait…” when they got to the front door, John asked, “Don’t you want to lock up?”

Jason looked at him blankly, “We can’t have you letting the place get robbed,” Shaw interjected. “We’re not completely heartless.”

John put his hand inside Jason’s pocket and pulled the key ring out, handing it over to the frightened man they let him lock the door with shaking hands. “Alright, let’s get going.” John looked around the neighborhood, making sure no one was watching while Shaw loaded the man inside the back seat and got in beside him with her gun trained on him.

John got inside the driver’s side and turned the key.

“If you could give me a clue as to what your boss thinks I might know, I’d be grateful.”

Shaw could see the man shaking.

“I don’t think it would be a problem, Shaw,” John spoke up as he pulled onto the street. “Tell him.”

Shaw rolled her eyes irritably, “Fine, but if Harold gets pissed about it you’re taking the heat.” She kept her gun pointed at him and pulled a photo of Grace out and showed it to him, “There’s a woman we’ve been searching for. Her name is Grace Hendricks, have you ever seen her or heard the name?”

“I’ve never heard that name in my life…” Jason shook his head emphatically, “I swear, I don’t recognize her either.”

“Well, that’s what our boss is going to determine.” Shaw looked at him head on, “I’m not going to lie to you Jason, he’s not going to accept any bullshit from you, so if you know even the smallest bit of information, you’d better tell him straight.”

She looked at John in the rearview mirror; he nodded for to continue. She noted again how much the guy was shaking and sweating as she continued to warn him about what he could expect. “The first guy we interrogated didn’t make it and the second one is…” she looked at him threateningly, “Well let’s just say he’s walking a thin line.”

“Oh God,” Jason whimpered.

“Yeah, so we can’t promise anything, but if you can give our boss something, no matter how small you think it might be, you might have a chance to walk away with your life.”

“But I don’t know anything. I told you I was a nobody in the company, I didn’t warrant any more information than the most menial jobs required… please believe me.”

“Just shut up for now Jason and scour your memory for anything that could lead us to some answers, or someone else that may be able to tell us where she is.”

*************

Harold pushed open the bedroom door silently and stood at the threshold. Kevin was pulling against his restraints and went still as soon as he noticed Harold standing there staring at him.

The man swallowed audibly and tried to look around Harold in hopes of seeing someone else behind him… he prayed that he hadn’t been left alone with the crazy man and a cold chill ran up his spine, “I… I gave her a name,” he stammered hurriedly. “Of… of someone I knew back then that… that, might be able to give you what you want.”

Harold took a step inside the room calmly and pulled a gun from the back of his waistband. He maintained eye contact, never taking his eyes off his captive as he raised the firearm at the terrified man's head. “No! No, please don’t... Please!" Kevin squirmed uselessly, pulling against his bonds as hard as he could instinctively. "I gave you a name! Please don't kill me!"

Harold never uttered a word as he loomed over the man menacingly. His grin turned almost feral, maniacal, he clearly enjoying the reaction he was receiving, as he pulled back the hammer of the gun raised it at Kevin's head. "Oh God...no! Please, no!" the man begged desperately and squeezed his eyes shut tight, turning his face away from certain death as best he could.

The man jumped at the sound of the gun _'Click…click…click’_ Harold pulled the trigger again and again and delighted in the man’s shrieks of terror and alarm until he went quiet suddenly, realizing he hadn’t been shot.

Harold smiled ominously and snickered, “That’s you dead by the way…” he watched the frantic man gleefully as he fell apart, sobbing and spluttering as he tried to catch his breath. After a long moment the grin faded from Harold’s face and he turned and left the room as silently as he'd entered.


	7. Chapter 7

When they got Jason to the house Shaw informed him of what he should expect. “I’m going to remind you that unless you want to provoke our boss into doing something rash, do yourself a favor and tell him everything, no matter how small, that you may know.”

Jason shook his head, “I’ve already told you, I don’t know _anything_.”

John looked at Shaw. He believed the man was telling the truth and was sure that she thought so too.

“If he’s hell bent on killing me just because I worked for Decima for a short period of time... he might as well get it done and over with.”

“Come on, let’s go.” They took Jason inside to find Harold intently focused at his laptop typing away rapidly.

When he suddenly realized that they were back, Harold quickly shut down whatever he was doing and stood up and waited quietly until John had the man seated in the chair.

Harold grinned when he saw the horrified look on his new captives face. Jason’s eyes went wide in alarm seeing the dead man strapped to the chair next to his.

By now the body was cold, the man’s face was ashen and the blood had dried stiffly into his clothing. It was a gory sight to behold and Harold loved the effect it had on the former Decima agent.

John looked away from the sadistic delight in Harold’s expression and zip-tied Jason down in what was quickly becoming the regular interrogation seat.

Jason hesitated to look at Harold and John could practically feel a strange charge in the atmosphere of the room. The hair stood up on the back of his neck.

“Now, Jason,” Harold began, deceptively calm. “As no doubt you’re aware...” Harold looked at Shaw for a sign that they had told him why he was there and she nodded, “I’m looking for Grace Hendricks.” He sat down in the chair across from Jason and looked at him austerely, “and you’re going to help me find her.”

Jason took a deep breath and closed his eyes, “I’ve already told them…” he shifted in his chair and looked back at Harold nervously, “I don’t know anything.”

“Wrong answer.” Harold leaned toward the table beside his chair and picked up his phone. His jaw clenched as he ground his teeth together and opened up the latest reminder of what Grace was being put through.  “This is what’s being done to an innocent woman.” He held the phone out in front of Jason’s face, “Look at her!”

For an instant Jason saw the repulsive image then turned his head away, he couldn’t bring himself to look at it again.

Harold stood up, rage barely in his control, and took Jason’s chin in his hand and forced his face forward. “Look at her, damn you!”

“Harold!” John exclaimed but Harold didn’t acknowledge him. He was indignantly bent on making the man bear the horrible sight, “If you don’t tell me where she is right now, I will bury you.” Harold bit the words out low and ominously as he squeezed the man’s jaw as hard as he could and looked down at him.

Jason cried out from the pressure and the bite of pain in Harold’s grasp, “Please! I don’t know, I swear it!” he whimpered.

“Harold, stop!” John tried again.

Harold turned on John and shook with fury, “He knows! God damn him he knows!” He stood there trembling and tears of frustration ran down his face, “He knows…” and then abruptly, his whole pent up demeanor shrunk and he visibly deflated, almost collapsing where he stood.

John could barely contain the sob that wanted to unleash itself from his mouth at the heart wrenching sight. Every bit of Harold’s energy seemed to drain from him and he swayed on his feet, his legs seemed to weaken beneath him. “He… knows,” he murmured again distraughtly.

John hurried over to him and took him by the arm gently, directing him to the couch. “Please, sit down.” He could barely contain his own grief as he helped his exhausted partner sit back against the cushions.

Shaw stood quietly and watched the tragic scene play out, while Jason got himself under control. Something had to be done soon. Harold was walking a tightrope of emotional turmoil and was a hair’s breadth of falling off.

When that happened, she wasn’t sure what the fallout would be. None of them were safe, he was completely unstable and the horrible truth was eating away at her now too.

“John…” Harold looked at him pleadingly as his entire body trembled with fatigue, “He knows... he knows” he repeated again and again like a mantra.

“You don’t know that… please, Harold.” John took Harold’s hand and looked deeply into his bloodshot eyes, noting the unusually high temperature of Harold’s skin, “Please get some rest, you’re wearing yourself into the ground.”

“I can’t rest, John. Please don’t ask that of me.” Silent tears continued to well in his partner’s eyes and John wanted to scream his sorrow and hopelessness into the heavens. “I have to save her… we have to save her, please John… please.” Harold was despondent and on the brink of a complete physical and emotional breakdown.

They had to get him under control quickly or something terrible and irreversible was going to happen, John could feel it.

John swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded, “Yes Harold, and we will but we have to get the information the right way before we can do that.”

Harold looked at Shaw imploringly, “Can you ask him, Sameen? Can you get it out of him?”

“How about some tea, Harold?” John tried to occupy his partner’s addled mind with something else for a time, “You could use a cup. It’ll do you good.”

Harold never took his eyes off Shaw as he waited for her reply. “Please Sameen… get answers from him. I know you can do it… please make him talk.” Tears rolled down his cheeks steadily as he begged her.

“Yeah, I’ll talk to him, Harold.” Shaw shared a worried look with John.

Harold was out of his mind with despair, and they couldn’t wait any longer to act.

Relief washed over Harold’s face and he started to relax. He looked at John, “You’re right. I need some tea,” he said quietly. “I’ll feel better with some tea.”

“Take him to the kitchen, John.” Shaw watched the emotional rollercoaster Harold was riding on distraught, as things looked bleak for their benevolent leader. The whole horrific situation with Grace was killing him slowly and effectively while they were forced to watch.

John nodded, “Alright, Harold. We’ll let Shaw talk to the guy, let’s go to the kitchen for a little while.”

“Thank you, John.” Harold smiled weakly and moved to get up but didn’t have the strength to stand on his own. He shook his head and frowned, embarrassment crossed his face, “I think, I may need a hand,” He looked up and reached out for John to help him up. "Please... John." he asked uncomfortably.

John took his arm and levered him off the couch. It was a testament to Harold’s dire condition that he made this small request. In any other circumstance he would never have asked for any physical help from anyone with such a menial task.

 John’s heart was breaking as the reality of Harold’s mental and physical state hit home yet again.

Shaw decided right then and there that the most important thing to do right now was to force Harold to get some sleep. He wasn’t going to agree to it, so she had her own idea on how to achieve the mission she set herself on. They would just have to deal with the consequences later.

As soon as the two men left the room, Shaw went into action. “Just sit tight, Jason. Don’t go anywhere.” Jason’s mind was working over time trying to figure out how to get out of the predicament he found himself in but all he could do was sit quietly and wait.

Shaw hurried down the hall and stuck her head in the room Kevin was still locked up in to check on him before she went to work on her plan. When she opened the door he looked up nervously, fearing that it was Harold that had come back. Relief washed over him, “Is… is he gone?” he asked anxiously.

“What the hell?” she remarked.

The guy looked scared to death, “He’s not still here is he?” he asked, “He’s insane. Please don’t leave me alone with him again.”

She closed the door without acknowledging him, she didn’t have time to deal with anything else right now, there was no telling how long John would be able to keep Harold away from the living room, she had to hurry.

She went into the back room where the medical supplies were kept and went through the inventory. John might have an issue with her method in the beginning but once Harold was able to get some rest she figured he would calm down about it. She decided that she would take whatever the fallout was going to be, she was making this decision on her own.

After she found what she was looking for Shaw pocketed the sedative then hurried back to the living room.


	8. Chapter 8

 

_“No, I don’t want to drink it in there…”_

Shaw heard Harold’s voice distantly, coming from the direction of the kitchen as he and John started making their way back to the main room.

_“I want to hear what he has to say…”_

She hurried back to where Jason sat, quietly confused by what was happening around him.

It was driving her crazy that Harold was so utterly unpredictable all the time now. He’d gone from nearly passing out five minutes ago, to wanting to get involved in her interrogation. She heard John trying to stall him, to give her more time to accomplish whatever she had in mind to get him to rest.

“Just stay quiet for now,” Shaw urged Jason and listened carefully as Harold and John stood just out of sight from the living room.

 _“Listen, Harold. She can probably get more information out of him if you’re not standing over him. He’s scared to death of you, in case you hadn’t noticed.”_ Harold was being stubborn but it sounded like John might be winning the argument by appealing to his new found alter-ego, _“You’re a commanding presence, Harold. Just sit and drink your tea and give her a few minutes to soften him up for you.”_

Shaw got tired of the hold-up and took the initiative to go to them instead of waiting. She turned the corner and walked over to them. “John’s right, Harold. I haven’t even had enough time to get his shoe size let alone anything else.” She said pointedly. “Just calm down and go have your tea in the kitchen, I’ll let you know when I get anything out of him.”

Harold pursed his lips and looked at her dubiously, “Why are you two so intent on me having tea?” He looked down at the steaming cup in his hand suspiciously then at John and back to her in turn.

Shaw knew she’d been had. Harold was becoming suspect of everything now and she would have to cover herself and wait for another opportunity to spike his drink.

“Harold you’re being paranoid,” she stated. “We’re just trying to get you to relax; you’re running yourself ragged.”

“Shaw’s right,” John interjected quickly. “Just give her a little while to interrogate the guy and see what she gets… then we’ll know whether we have something to go on or not.”

Harold swayed on his feet a little as he stood there eyeing them both before taking the cup from the saucer and holding it out to John, “You drink it.” He ordered succinctly.

John’s chest ached as he looked into his partner’s distrustful gaze and took the cup from Harold’s unsteady hand. As he brought it to his lips, he couldn’t believe it had come to this. Harold had gotten to the point that he didn’t trust them anymore and that loss of confidence weighed heavily on John’s heart.

He took a sip from the cup and handed it back to his partner. “Satisfied?” John asked, attempting to mollify him.

Harold observed him for a few seconds, “Yes, I’m sorry, John. I apologize.” He shook his head awkwardly, “I really have no excuse to question your loyalties other than to agree with your embarrassing assessment of my current mental state.” He looked at them both and went further, “I may be going mad… but you see, I can’t stop… I can’t slow down until we’ve found her.” Harold’s eyes began to glisten with unshed tears, “She’s enduring unspeakable horrors and humiliation and I’m powerless to help her. You must both understand that I will do _anything_ I must do… I will give _everything_ I have to find her.”

“We do understand Harold,” Shaw began, “but if your body and mind give out on you at the wrong time it could be disastrous for the mission, and then where would we be?”

“I understand and appreciate your concern, really I do,” he smiled up at John and to Shaw sincerely. “But I think we’re close to a breakthrough having this man to question. I think he knows more than he’s letting on. I can _feel_ it!”

“Harold, please let her try?” John pleaded.

Harold turned towards Shaw, “Very well. Sameen, you have five minutes before I get involved; we can’t pussyfoot around any longer.” He was already becoming impatient and enraged again. His emotions were a ticking time bomb and scared John out of his mind.

Harold turned and walked back towards the kitchen while John looked helplessly at Shaw. She passed a vial of chloral hydrate to him before Harold turned back to ask John impatiently, “Are you coming?”

“Yes, I’ll be right there.” Harold nodded and disappeared from sight.

“If you can manage to put this into his tea he’ll have no other choice than to sleep for a while, then we decide what needs to happen from there.”

John nodded and hid the drug in his front pocket. He hated the thought of doing this to Harold but it was the only way to keep him from killing himself with exhaustion and fatigue. He’d try to dose his drink with the sedative if the opportunity presented itself. If it didn’t they’d have to come up with a different tactic to get the job done.

Shaw went back to the main room to question Jason again.

“Look, I’m not going to sugar coat this,” she began earnestly. “Our boss is losing his sanity over this and I’m pretty sure that if you don’t offer to give us something, you’re going to end up like your pal sitting there to your left.” Shaw looked at the corpse and back to Jason.

“You’d let him kill an innocent man?” Jason asked anxiously.

“The way I see it, none of us are innocent are we?” she shook her head, “I know I’ve done some messed up shit in my time and I know that in working for Decima… you have too.” Next she spoke with significant irony. “So none of us are truly innocent, are we Jason?”

“I swear I don’t know anything,” Jason reiterated tiredly.

Shaw took a deep breath, “Too bad for you then. You had your chance.”

Harold and John came back into the room. Shaw looked at John expectantly who only shook his head slightly in reply. He didn’t have the opportunity to spike Harold’s drink.

 _‘Shit,’_ she thought to herself.

For Harold’s part, he seemed to have renewed vigor somehow. He seemed more alert and energetic than just a few minutes earlier, like he’d found his second wind and was rearing to get involved and hands on.

“Anything to report Sameen?” Harold asked as he stared ominously at Jason.

“I really don’t think he knows anything, Harold. I believe him when he says he’s never heard of Grace.”

Harold glared at her then. “He’s lying and I’m going to prove it.”

“I believe him too, Harold,” John offered mildly.

Harold turned to John, “I don’t care what you two think, John! Get that body out of here; it's starting to stink up the place,” he ordered angrily as he pointed at the dead man.

The uncharacteristically cold tone of Harold's demand was another dagger straight to John’s heart. He moved on auto pilot as he cut the zip-ties from the dead man’s wrists and ankles, “Help him get him to the car Sameen and then come back. There’s something I want to discuss with you… but take your time, while I have a little one on one with Jason here.”

Jason’s eyes widened at the threatening statement as Harold loomed over him, smirking at him wickedly.

 


	9. Chapter 9

 

The door closed behind John and Shaw as they maneuvered the body to the trunk of the town-car. Closing the lid John looked at Shaw solemnly. “We’ve lost him, Shaw,” John stated abruptly. “I believe Harold is going insane.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” she retorted. “He’s totally off the rails and we have to get him back.”

“I think it’s already too late…” John pulled the vial of chloral hydrate from his pocket and handed it back to her. He shook his head, “You want to know what we talked about for the two minutes Harold was able to sit still in there?”

Shaw looked up at him quietly and waited until he was ready to offer more, she could see the pain in John’s eyes as he swallowed and looked past her while he began.

“He told me that he wished he’d been the one to kill Greer.” John shut his eyes and took a deep breath while Shaw stayed quiet. “He said that he’d wished at the time, he would have seen it the way he does now so he could have addressed the man’s true nature for what it was and been able to capture him and make him suffer terribly for what he'd done.” John looked at Shaw desolately. “To be there and to watch the life drain from his eyes.”

Shaw shook her head dismayed. “We have to try and help him any way we can, John. What’s the alternative? We have to get Grace back and then see where we are with him. We’ll get him the help he needs after we’ve found her; it’s the only option we have right now.”

“I have a very bad feeling,” John admitted. “He’s so damned unstable, I don’t know what he’s capable of anymore. We can only pray we find her in time or we’ll have lost them both.”

“Look, I gotta get back in there before Harold does something crazy. Hopefully by the time you get back, I’ll have been able to drug him into oblivion for a while, then we see where we’re at with Grace.”

John sighed and nodded, “Maybe Harold’s right and the guy does know something… let’s hope so anyway.”

Shaw stood at the driver’s side door, “Get moving, and hurry back I may need you.”

“I won’t be long.” John shut the door and left in a hurry.

******

As soon as the door closed behind his operatives Harold began, “Now, let’s you and I have a little chat shall we?” Jason shifted uneasily in his chair.

“You seem to be under the impression that I don’t know exactly who you are, Jason… you don’t think I know what you’ve done and are still extremely capable of.” Harold leaned in lowering his voice conspiratorially, “But unlike my colleagues…” Harold leered at the man and his expression turned to ice. “I know exactly what you’ve done for John Greer in the past and are continuing to do in his name presently.”

Jason swallowed hard and a shiver ran through him, “So if that’s what you think, why haven’t you killed me yet? Why haven’t you told the other two who you think I am, let them do your dirty work for you?” Jason asked as calmly as he could while sweat ran down his back.

Harold glared at him, “Because _I_ haven’t gotten the information from you that I need, Jason… I haven’t tortured you for it yet.” Harold sat back in his chair portentously, “You see, as desperate for answers as I am, I truly want to try my hand at some newly acquired techniques I’ve discovered. I will garner information from you, and make no mistake, you will talk… but why should I deny myself some satisfaction, little as it may be, and allow anyone else the pleasure of making you feel the same excruciating pain that my Grace is being subjected to?”

“Look, I’ll talk if you don’t hurt me…” Jason offered hurriedly.

The maniacal gleam in Harold’s eyes was unmistakable, he wanted blood and he was going to get it.

Harold stood up and opened a drawer on the end table next to the couch. He pulled out a role of duct tape and stripped a piece off casually.

“I said I’d talk!” The man pleaded uselessly before Harold covered his mouth with it.

“Yes, Jason, you will... but not before I have some fun with you.”

******

Shaw got back inside to find Harold standing over a now, effectively gagged prisoner. “Sameen, I want to show you something quickly, before John gets back.” Harold knew that his partner would be gone for at least an hour.

He’d been receiving and accumulating many packages, each delivered to a different location and retrieved by either Shaw or John, for the past few days.

They’d both wondered what was in these boxes of various size, but neither of them dared to ask. Harold secreted them away in his room as soon as he had them in his hands.

Shaw approached him warily, noticing that Jason was unable to speak with his mouth covered as it was. “Why is he gagged if we’re going to question him?” she asked blankly.

Jason squirmed and grunted under the gag and Harold regarded him levelly, “Quiet!” he demanded.

Jason quieted and sweat trickled down the sides of his face as he looked at Shaw pleadingly. 

“Yes, well, never mind him for the moment,” Harold began, hurrying to change the subject. “You see, I have recently developed a fascination with medieval devices that were used for the purpose of inducing information from people such as our friend there.”

Shaw could see the delightful gleam in his eyes as he continued excitedly; his demeanor was unsettling to her. He alluded to a large unopen crate that had been sitting locked in the middle of the room.

She’d thought the trunk was just a piece of furniture but she was stunned to hear just how wrong she’d been when he began to explain its contents.

“I don’t think John would be into this sort of thing, but you on the other hand, Sameen… this should be right up your alley.” He grinned smugly. “I don’t think we need to bother him with such things… do you?”

“I have to ask again, Harold, how’s this guy going to talk with his mouth covered?” Shaw was beginning to panic the longer it went on with Harold not seeming to be listening to her as he plodded forward, too intent and enthusiastic with his presentation.

“Quite a few of them I think might be very effective for our needs in future. Let me show you what I’ve found. I think you’ll be quite impressed.” Harold looked at Jason and grinned, “What do you say we put some to the test on our subject here?”

Jason whimpered with fear.

“Harold, why don’t you just show me what you’ve got and then decide, okay?” Shaw did her damnedest to seem interested and placating and Harold was thrilled to show off his acquisitions but wanted to present his ideas first.

“Yes certainly,” he replied heartily. “Now let’s just consider for a moment… on deserving child-molesters or murderers let’s say… they shouldn’t be allowed to walk the streets freely don’t you agree?” He looked at her expectantly for a second before he started rambling on again. “Anyway, these discoveries will work well to teach them the error of their ways and prevent them from ever causing any more trouble for society.”

Shaw was afraid that he was starting to become maniacal and hoped that John would get back before she had to take any extreme measures on her own. She had to stall so she let him continue to explain fervently what he’d been having shipped to him. 

_John’s absence had given Harold the opportunity he’d been waiting for to talk to Shaw alone, he was happy to explain all of his thoughts and reasoning to her in detail._

“You see, I know that John is having some difficulty accepting the idea that I have finally come to my senses. That I have a much better understanding and appreciation of what one needs to do in certain situations to get results from these, and I use the term loosely, _people_.”

He suddenly seemed to become irritated and glared at Jason for a split second. Shaw was sure he was going to lose it, but to her relief, he settled down and went on, “In other words, I now accept what has to be done to reap more immediate results.” He looked pensive for a moment, “Even though at times it may be unsavory.”

Harold smirked and seemed almost giddy when he leaned over and threw the chest open revealing the horrifying contents gleefully. “Let’s start with this…” He eagerly pulled out the first piece of what he’d been collecting to interrogate, and more than likely end up killing detainees outright.

Shaw was stunned by what she saw.


	10. Chapter 10

“Now, just in case I haven’t made myself completely clear to you Sameen, I will elaborate a bit further. I am now completely open to using techniques that in the past I would have found repulsive and would have been horrified to use. But you see, they have my Grace and there is nothing I won’t do to do to find her and get her to safety.

I won’t be a hypocrite and ask you or John to do something that I myself am not willing to do. That part of me is dead for well and good. I’ve buried him, along with the same part of me that thought there was still justice in this austere world and fought fruitlessly to save everyone in it.”

Shaw saw that he had a momentary look of loathing for himself before he continued unfazed and turned the metal object he held around in his hands. She let him ramble on uninterrupted and looked at the torture implement as he admired it. The more he spoke the more uncomfortable she was becoming and she glanced at the time, once again hoped that John would be back soon.

“Keep in mind, while I understand that every one of these devices are no longer utilized to extract information, it doesn’t mean they can’t be used again with the same effectiveness today.”

He smiled and continued with excitement, “And I rather enjoy the idea of giving them life again…” he grinned darkly as he examined his first find admiringly, “or death as the case may be. “There’s a certain nostalgia to the idea.” He stated wistfully. “History, even the dark chapters, has taught us so many useful ideas. So, let’s start here.”

Harold handed over the iron contraption that Shaw recognized but of course had never used, the particular method of torture having gone out of fashion over a hundred years ago. “This is referred to as ‘ _Pilliwinks_ ’ or as you may know it by, the handy, please pardon the pun, ‘ _thumbscrew machine_ ’. Shaw looked at the device distastefully knowing fully well how it was used, “Not your cup of tea, I gather,” Harold was unfazed and went back into the chest eagerly.

Any minute now she was sure he was going to propose demonstrating each implement on their captive who sat as quietly and as invisible as he could manage.

Harold pulled out the next item. “These are called ‘ _Tongue Tearers_ ,’ and I’m sure I don’t need to explain to you the obvious.” He waited for a response as he pushed the scissor like implement into her hands to inspect. “I’m sure they would be effective if we didn’t need our prisoners to speak,” he smirked and looked at Jason.

Shaw handed them back without saying a word, her blood pressure was beginning to spike. Harold remained so animated that she thought at any second he might start demonstrating his torture implements on Jason. He started rattling off again and she did her best to prevent him from seeing the concern she felt.

“Then there’s these nifty, and very detailed I might add, _‘Crocodile Shears.’_ This may be the most frightening and my favorite device. I think that it may be because of where it is applied. It’s simply put around the neck and these spikes…” he touched the tip of his index finger to a few of the sharp points that lined the inner circular collar and smiled, “dig into flesh quite impressively preventing a person from doing… well, just about anything.”

He snickered, “You can’t eat or lie down, and it’s impossible to lower your head while wearing it. It’s not normally fatal and would be far too time consuming to be effective for our purposes but it has its own charm.” He put the device away and pulled out the next, “Ahhh… and then there’s this. This is the _‘Heretics Fork’_ you see,” he unbuckled the leather strap and demonstrated around his own neck carefully.

“This belt is put around a person’s neck while they are hung suspended and it prevents them from lowering their head to sleep, lest they impale themselves on the bi-pronged forks under the chin and into the soft hollow of the throat on either end.”

“Unfortunately, I believe that it also would be too time consuming and impractical to boot.” Harold was becoming disenchanted with Shaw’s lack of approval and she sensed it.

She pointed into the chest in a feigned attempt to conciliate him and asked, “What’s that one do?”

“Now this…!” Harold pulled the last item from his chest with renewed vigor, “Feast your eyes on this, Sameen. This is _the piece de resistance_  of my collection so far… this is what’s called a _‘Lead Sprinkler.’_ Harold turned the torture device around in his hands for Shaw to see, “Just look at the ornate detail here, the craftsmanship is superb, don’t you think?”

Shaw nodded and took the antique torture implement from him. “Yeah, it’s really intricate.”

“Isn’t it though?” he agreed readily as she handed it back. “It first appears as a holy water sprinkler,” he grinned again, “but in reality it’s a bit more complex. You see, one would pour molten metal inside the bell, close it and then drip the silver or lead or any number of things really, over the subjects body.” Harold examined the piece with great interest and then shook his head, “You know as eager as I am I really don’t think I could stand the smell of burning flesh,” Shaw watched nervously as he seemed to recall his past. “No…” he said distantly, “I’ve been there done that, I don’t want to experience it again.”

Shaw took a deep breath. She didn’t know how she should be reacting to him, she eyed the time again until Harold seemed to mentally shake himself and continued a lot less enthused than he’d been just a few moments ago.

“Of course there’s always the _classics_ ,” Harold was starting to become annoyed by the way his ideas were being received. He thought that Shaw of all people would be much more impressed. But judging by the look of disinterest and possible even disgust on her face, she wasn’t enthralled in the least. She was really beginning to irritate him.

He went on again anyway and while he was becoming more ill-tempered Shaw was becoming much more concerned. “We could consider the much used practice of _‘Cement shoes’_ which is really not that old a method but an effective way of disposing of someone once we’ve gotten information out of them or made them pay for their misdeeds.”

Harold tried one more method. “There’s always the ‘ _generic_ ,’ he said the word with distaste. ‘ _Rope Torture,’_ he stated with disinterest. “And although I know that John would excel in that particular technique, I fear his heart is no longer in it,” he turned and regarded her. “He seems overly concerned about recent events and I’d rather not tell him about my little side interests.”

Harold put the last piece back in the trunk and turned towards her again earnestly, “But you, Sameen… _You_ would be a wonderful instructor and I would be honored to watch and learn from your expertise.”

_Harold tried to gage her reaction to his presentation but as ever she was hard to read. He just couldn’t understand why he didn’t get some type of a positive response from her. She should have be all over his ideas, she’d tortured and killed many people over the years and he was sure that she had probably enjoyed it at the time._

_Perhaps Harold Finch had trained the innate ability to do intentional harm without emotional regard out of her. If so, he wasn’t so sure about her anymore either. He’d come to expect John’s almost visceral recoiling of what he was capable of now. He was almost sure at some point John would just leave him and now wondered if Shaw might too. He wasn’t sure if he could trust anyone anymore. He’d just have to keep an eye on them and hope for the best. He truly wished it wouldn’t come to a point where he would have to anything rash about them._

“Look, Harold…” Shaw began mildly, “It’s not that I can’t appreciate your ideas, but extracting information out of people doesn’t have to be that extreme.”

Jason looked at her with hope, still sweating profusely as he sat and prayed that she didn’t let Harold have his way with him.

“I see…” Harold slammed the lid on the trunk and locked it angrily. “Never mind all the time and effort, not to mention the finances, I’ve put forth acquiring these devices!” he fumed.

“Harold, calm down…” Shaw was sure it was going to come to the point where she would have to restrain him but thankfully the door opened and John came back from his task.

Once again Harold’s mood shifted to something less incensed.

John caught Shaw’s uncharacteristic gaze of intense worry, “How’s it going?” he asked, clearly reading the scene for what it was.

“I’d like to speak with you John.” Shaw breathed a small sigh of relief when Harold asked John to join him in the kitchen.

“Sameen?” Harold prompted, she looked at him expectantly, “Get what you can out of him.” he stated coldly and looked at Jason, “By any means necessary.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter mentions the loss of Harold and Grace's child. Possible tissue alert.

As soon as John and Harold were out of sight, Shaw turned to Jason. “I’ll bet you’re glad he’s back,” she said as peeled the tape off of his mouth.

Jason was trying to keep his trembling down to a minimum but what he’d just witnessed freaked him out so much that he could hardly relax enough to sit still, “That man’s totally crazy, you know that right?” he said nervously as soon as he could breathe again freely.

“You have no idea what he’s going through, I advise you keep your opinions to yourself.” Shaw sat down across from him and stared while he breathed only slightly easier now that Harold was out of the room.

“You know, Jason,” she began calmly. “I’ve seen a lot of bad guys in my time and you don’t really seem to foot the bill.” She tilted her head and thought about a few things for a moment. Her gut was telling her that he wasn’t lying and she knew that John felt the same but she just wasn’t sure either way and it was always safer to assume the worst.

“Yeah, I haven’t heard or seen anything that gives me pause about you but I’ve been fooled before.” She studied the man’s face and he looked away uncomfortably. “So right now, I can only promise you that if it’s in my power to persuade Harold not to torture you for information… I will.” She nodded slightly, “But when it comes right down to it, he _is_ the boss so I strongly suggest that you search your memory for _anything_ you might know.” She stood up and went behind Jason to the bar cart that sat behind him. “And you better tell me quick because if you wait until he comes back I won’t be held responsible for his actions.”

Jason couldn’t see what she was doing but he heard what sounded like a glass topper being removed from a decanter and then a dripping sound. He didn’t try to see what she was doing but he was pretty sure he knew what it was.

She was spiking some kind of alcohol. He imagined that she and John were going to drug their boss, he just wasn’t sure exactly why yet. He had no idea what their motives could be, but if that was her intent he wasn’t going to say a word about it… not yet anyway.

Jason’s blood pressure was beginning to diminish, he started to calm down and had a decision to make immediately. Shaw came back around and sat across from him again and asked, “Where do you think she’d be taken? Are there any Decima strongholds left that you may know anything about?”

He took a deep breath and swallowed. “There might be two or three locations I know of that could still be used by the diehard Greer henchmen that are left, but I can’t swear to it that you’ll find anything in any of them.”

Shaw leaned forward in her chair, “That’s a start… now I just need the addresses.” She stood up to retrieve her phone to plug the information in and stood over him, “Fire away.”

*****

“Have a seat, John.” Harold pulled one of the chairs out for his partner and circled the kitchen table then sat down himself. “I’ve been meaning to have a word with you for quite some time now.”

John sat down somberly, “What about?” He hoped that it was in reference to recent events; that maybe Harold had come to realize that he’d been acting totally unlike the man John knew him to be.

  
Harold took a deep breath then began. “I’m doing everything I can to fix the problem that was that other man… the man who was Harold Finch.”

John's heart sank, he wanted to interrupt, to plead with him to wake up and see that he shouldn’t stop being Harold Finch, that he loved and admired him as he was before and not who he’d become. But he decided by observing Harold’s manner he needed to stay quiet as Harold began to explain what’s happened to him.

“Harold Finch, fool as he was, believed that good would prevail if he just persisted with his beliefs and remained patient.” He sighed tiredly, “If only…” he scoffed, “I got so tired of watching people die around me while I did nothing.”

“We determine who we are by what we do or don’t do in life. Harold Finch taught me that.” John waited nervously for a response, while Harold just shook his head quietly in denial. John went further, “You’re not a killer... you're a good man. You did what you thought was right at the time,” he said solemnly.

“Hah!” Harold exclaimed impatiently, “I _was_ a good man, John, or what the world might have considered good and what did it get me?” John could feel his partner’s frustration palpably, “I’ll tell you! It brought nothing but death and destruction to everyone in my life, that’s what it did! Death and wretchedness to loved ones that didn’t deserve it… misery and carnage to innocent bystanders.”

He seemed to deflate slightly and continued, bitterness tainting every word, “And now, suffering and despair has been unleashed upon the most honest and pure woman that has ever walked the earth…” Harold shut his eyes and went pensive for a few moments.

John sensed that he should remain quiet but he wanted to reach out and offer support to his tormented partner. As the seconds ticked by he couldn’t stand it any longer, he had to act and began to speak, but before he could do so Harold gathered himself and continued gravely, “Grace… is going to die, John.” Harold was looking past him and stated the horrible likeliness as desolately as any man who had lost everything could.

John tried to understand how everything could have ever gone so horribly wrong as Harold went on. “She’s going to die because I’ve been so damn stupid for so damned long…” He smiled sadly with tears in his eyes and met John’s gaze. “I can’t live with that eventuality... not anymore.”

John returned his regard not really knowing what to say so he remained silent, waiting for something he could argue over. Of course he didn’t agree with Harold’s assessment of himself, but as hard as he fought for the right rejoinder, his mind struggled futilely.

Harold took a deep breath and swallowed hard, “You once said to me that it would be nice to have a child, to have children, and then asked me if I thought it would ever happen. Do you remember that night John?”

“Yeah Harold,” John answered reflectively, “It was after we delivered Leila to her grandparents.”

Harold shifted his gaze away from him again, staring off into the distance over John’s shoulder before gathering himself and proceeding,“I almost had one once,” he said vacantly, haunted by the memory that lingered always in the back of his mind like a specter waiting for him in the shadows.

John was stunned and he stared speechless. He shook himself, he wasn't quite sure he'd heard right.

“Grace had conceived in our second year together, but she lost the child in her second trimester.”

John’s heart clenched painfully in his chest. He suddenly thought back on that night with Leila and remembered the look of resigned acceptance on Harold’s face. But he was mistaken… it wasn’t acceptance he saw reflected back at him, it was melancholy and longing for what he’d almost had with Grace.

He felt tears come to his own eyes as Harold continued.

“I apostatized that night, John... I renounced God and threw away my vows… though I never revealed my sudden disbelief to her. She remained devoted to her faith and I never told her of my denouncement. How could I ever deny her something that had only ever meant comfort to her after such a tragedy?”

John again struggled to say something but his mind came up blank from the shock of his partner’s revelation. He never imagined anything like that happening in Harold’s life.

Of all the misfortune, both mentally and physically that had shaped and formed who Harold Finch had ultimately become when he had entered his own life, John would never have dreamed up that heartbreaking possibility.

Harold continued wistfully while his eyes glistened, “The baby was a girl. We even had a name chosen for her.” Harold finally broke down at the confession and looked at John earnestly. “I want that for you John…” he said softly and struggled to speak, “I want you to have what I could not…” he choked out, “You deserve to be a father, a husband…”  

Before Harold could go any further his phone chimed, alerting him that there was another visual reminder of his darkest nightmares come to light. His posture stiffened and he looked at John anxiously for a moment, “Let me look, Harold, please. Don’t do it to yourself, not right now.” In that moment, John knew he had just seen a glimpse of Harold Finch for the very last time… agonizingly he understood it without a shadow of a doubt when Harold immediately shed every bit of the compassion and humanity he had shown in those last few precious minutes.

John mourned his beloved partner Harold Finch. He knew he'd probably never see that side of him again and said a silent farewell. He watched with sadness as the stark change come over the man across from him. John could see the transformation back in to the hardened persona that had obliterated his friend's existence as Harold’s face went blank and he straightened in his chair before mechanically pulling the phone from his pocket.  


	12. Chapter 12

 

Shaw quickly finished entering the information in to her phone, “Alright Jason, that’s a start.” She’d recognized both the locations he’d supplied. One of them she knew all too well.

It was the first place she was to taken after she was captured by Martine and the other Decima agents at the stock exchange. It was across town in a seedy part of the city, and at the time, just out of the Machine’s reach. “Is there anything more I should know?” she asked.

“I don’t know anything more.” Jason shifted in his chair, trying to get blood circulating through his legs again as he’d been sitting still for so long they were going to sleep. “Hell, I’m not even sure those places are still used anymore, but that’s all I can offer.” 

“I hope for your sake we find her.”

Shaw thought about the two buildings.

She figured that they had taken Grace to the same location she’d been held. She recalled the same structural features and the wall colors in the photos she’d managed to get a glimpse of on Harold’s phone.

The images she’d seen had been disturbing, even for her. She could only imagine how hard it was for him having to witness the woman he loves being tortured in every way conceivable every hour, just like clockwork. It was no wonder he’d seemingly lost his mind.

They had all been powerless to do anything, not knowing where she was, but for Harold, it was all infinitely worse.

She heard them coming back from the kitchen suddenly and could hear the concern in John’s voice, the underlying stress in his words.

It was difficult enough for her to adjust to Harold’s outrageous behavior, but to watch John going through his own trauma from the fact made it that much harder.

Harold’s faithful protector was being put through tremendous emotional pain and she couldn’t help but to feel sorry for him.

“Please, Harold… just slow down and listen!” At this point John wasn’t sure how much more he could take. After looking at his phone, Harold hadn’t shown him the latest reminder of what Grace was enduring before he stood up without a word and stormed out of the kitchen.

John saw the all-consuming look of bloodlust in his eyes and tried to calm him down but it was no use, his intent was clear and there was going to be hell to pay.

Shaw could tell immediately that Harold was on the warpath. He wasn’t listening to John and he headed straight for Jason as soon as he rounded the corner and laid eyes on him.

Harold rushed over to him, “You son of a bitch!” He was infuriated and grabbed Jason by the hair with one hand and wrenched his head back, “Tell me where she is, god damn you!” He was out of control and before Shaw could get a word in edgewise, Harold had laid into Jason mercilessly.

“Stop! Please!” Jason cried out. The force of having his hair wrenched and his head twisted so violently was almost enough to make him black out from the pain.

John stood detached and watched Shaw hurry over to Harold and try to get him to respond to her, “Harold! The guy talked, he gave me information!” He still wasn’t listening and his entire body quaked with anger.

“Where is she!?” Harold shouted again and Shaw grabbed him by the wrist of his free hand and squeezed hard, she could feel the blood pumping fast with adrenaline under her fingertips.

“I said he talked,” she repeated louder.

Harold paused his tirade and breathed heavily, swaying on his feet as his blood pressure flowed off the charts, then he seemed to become a little more aware and he visibly calmed himself down.

Shaw loosened her grip and she and John noticed that for a few long moments, Harold was practically transfixed by what he was doing. He blinked a few times and finally seemed to get ahold of himself.

He looked at his hand tangled in their captive’s hair then at the man’s face. Jason whimpered with tears in his eyes as Harold stood over him ominously.

Harold straightened his posture and turned his head to look Shaw squarely in the eyes. “Unhand me,” he said coldly and disentangled his fingers from Jason’s hair.

Shaw did as she was told and much more steadily than she felt, she stepped back away from him.

For a moment she was absolutely sure that if the situation had been just a little bit different, if she and John had not been there to stop him... Harold would have taken Jason apart. He would have murdered the man where he sat.

All John could do was stand there and watch the violence that Harold had just demonstrated numbly. His ears were ringing, he felt sick… he’d never get used to seeing that kind of physicality from Harold nor did he want to anymore.

He prayed that this new information would lead to finding Grace before it was too late for her. John knew in his heart, with absolute certainty, that it was already too late for his partner.

Harold was undeniably debauched… tainted, irreparably damaged and it broke John’s heart that it was so. In witnessing this last display, John had come to a decision.

After this horrifying nightmare was over… he was through. He had to move on, it was killing him to watch the continuous dismantling of the greatest man he’d ever known. He would leave New York and never come back; the city would be too painful a reminder that some of the best times of his life had been followed by what had become his own living hell.

“I said we have new leads,” Shaw said again after an uncomfortable amount of silence stretched on. The only sounds in the room now were Jason’s weak gasps and quiet sobbing, and the sound of her own frantic heartbeat in her ears.

Harold took a deep breath and nodded, laser focused on her eyes. “Good… what are you waiting for?” he turned away from her and stumbled, almost losing his footing on the way to the couch.

Shaw reached for him automatically to help steady him, but he gestured her off and sat down awkwardly against the cushions. He looked at Jason, “You’d better hope they find her alive,” he said menacingly. Jason shuddered at the tone he used as Harold continued to glare at him.

Shaw made eye contact with John and he finally found the resolve to walk over and sit down next to his partner. He didn’t try to talk to him just yet. He didn’t know what to say to him right now anyway, he looked at Shaw and asked, “What did he tell you?”

John tried assessing Harold’s current state as stealthily as he could, while she went over what Jason had told her.

_This could be the intel they’ve been waiting for, it was a vital period of time for all of them, they had to get there next moves just right._

Shaw grabbed Harold’s laptop off the table and handed it to him, then went over what she had firsthand knowledge of quickly while Harold plugged the addresses in to the computer.

“Sameen, since you’ve been to one of the locations and know of the other, which do you think would be the most likely of the two?” It was obvious that Harold’s blood pressure was still elevated. His breathing was uneven and he’d started to sweat. “Where would they hold her?”

Shaw saw little beads of perspiration forming along his hairline, trickling down the sides of his face.

John noticed too and she gave him a telling look before walking over to the bar cart and pouring a drink, “I believe they would take her to the same place they took me initially,” she began and put the stopper back into the scotch decanter.

Harold was reviewing his findings, too engrossed to notice the furtive glance John had given her. “It’s on the lower east side, in a shadow zone. I recognize the room Harold, I’m almost sure it's the same place.”

Harold looked up from the computer, “Do you really think so, Sameen?” he asked earnestly. “Could this be it?” The expectation Shaw saw in Harold’s eyes made her feel for him. She knew that it was very likely to be the place but there was no guarantee, she hoped for his sake she was right.

She nodded, “There’s a good possibility.” She casually handed Harold the glass, “You need to slow your heartrate, drink this. It’ll help you calm down.”

Harold took the glass and looked at Shaw, then John, “Listen… until I’ve figured some things out, things I really need to put some thought into… I don’t want you to mention me to her, understood?”

Harold sat the glass on the table beside him, “Is that understood?” he asked again more urgently. 

“Yes, we understand,” John replied.

“Good, I’m almost finished here, you two have to go… you have to hurry!” Harold quickly finished hacking in to every surrounding camera feed he could find in the vicinity of the address. He was typing away still until he noticed that his ops weren’t moving fast enough to suit him. “What are you waiting for? You have to move!”

Jason watched silently, knowing what Shaw had done. He had to feel grateful in a way, they may have just saved his life, so he kept his mouth shut and didn’t make any trouble.

John stood up, he was extremely hesitant to leave Jason alone with Harold, but there wasn’t a lot he could do about it. They had to get to Grace as soon as they could. “I have to get a few things put into the car, Shaw… you make sure Jason’s secure.”

Harold picked up his drink and looked at him, “He’ll be fine, get moving!” he took a swallow of the alcohol, set the glass back down, and moved his attention back to the screen.

John nodded at Shaw, “Let’s go then.” He knew this was it. Shaw had indicated to him that she had drugged Harold’s drink, now it was only a matter of time before the effects would pull him under.


	13. Chapter 13

 

It took less time than Shaw thought for Harold to react to the drug. After a few seconds of their stalling to see what was going to happen, they could see that Harold was starting to feel his consciousness being tugged on.

They were making their way to the door as slowly as they could without drawing Harold’s attention, both watching behind them to see that he had taken his glasses off and was dragging his hand down over his face.

He took a deep breath and blinked a few times, trying to clear his head and then his eyes went narrow, the realization of what had been done dawned on him suddenly and he looked up at them in panic.

The culminating expression of confusion, anger, and betrayal on Harold’s face made John want to cry out with grief.

Harold’s mind was reeling, he was trying to compel his body to use every scrap of energy it had left to fight the effects of the sedative, but it was hopeless. “What… what have you done?” he tried to move, to stand up, but he didn’t have the coordination or the strength. “You’ve decei… deceived me,” he slurred as his eyes closed and he slumped against the arm of the couch.

John couldn’t move, he was so torn by everything that was happening to his friend, he was momentarily frozen where he stood. Added to that, the guilt that he felt at Harold's accusation was palpable. They _had_ deceied him and John was miserable for having done so.

Shaw rushed over and took the computer off of Harold’s lap and set it aside. “Shit!” she exclaimed. "I didn't want to have do that, but it was the only way.” She checked his pulse and arranged his upper body to lean back against the cushions then gently positioned his head at a more comfortable angle.

“How long is he going to be unconscious?” John’s thoughts were jumbled, ‘ _God I can’t lose it right now!’_ He chastised himself internally.

“Hopefully he’ll be out until we get Grace to safety, but who knows?” She loosened his tie and opened the top two buttons of his collar quickly, “With all the uppers he’s taken to stay awake mixed with the alcohol he’s been drinking steadily, there’s no way of knowing anything, we just have to hurry and hope for the best.” she looked at John, “I’m not going to tie him up… I can’t do that to him.”

“Wait,” Jason interrupted, “you can’t leave me here alone with him! Please!” he pleaded fervently. “He’ll kill me!”

John looked at Jason, “He won’t kill you if we find Grace.”

“How can you say that? What if she’s not there?” Jason retorted nervously. “He’s crazy and you know it, how do you know he won’t?”

Shaw was interested in John’s reply. She wouldn’t have said that to Jason, the Harold they’d known was gone. The new man was nothing like him, this man had tasted blood and enjoyed it.

She could easily envision him killing Jason, but then John didn’t know about Harold’s newly acquired disposition for torture. He hadn’t seen the devices she had, he knew nothing about them.

“How do you know?!” Jason shouted at them again anxiously as they made for the door.

John turned and looked at Harold laying there unconscious and swallowed hard before answering faithfully, “I just do.”

They walked out, leaving Jason terrified from being left alone with a man who he knew to be mentally unstable.

John didn’t care, they had to find Grace now… she was all that mattered.

*****

Shaw drove, knowing exactly where they were going and how close they could get without being detected. “Look John, I know that you believe Harold won’t kill the guy, but I’m pretty sure that if he comes to and finds us gone…” she paused and shook her head, “I’m just saying that Harold thinks we betrayed him, so with Jason right there, he’s going to flip out and kill him.”

John shook his head, “No… you’re wrong,” he argued vehemently. “He won’t kill him, I know he won’t.”

“You’re setting yourself up for a big disappointment,” she countered but didn’t elaborate. She wouldn’t tell him about Harold’s little side hobby of collecting medieval torture implements, he already had enough on his mind.

They were quiet for the rest of the hour long drive. Shaw knew that John was thinking about Harold, she was too, but they had to get their head in the game so they could get Grace out alive and in one piece. They were going to have to have to deal with whoever was guarding her and she was going to require a lot of medical attention after all was said and done.

The kit Shaw had in the trunk would be enough to stabilize her, but the sooner they could get her to Megan Tillman, the better.

Shaw had given Megan a heads up the first week they’d started searching for Grace and coincidently spoke to her again this morning. Then just before they left the house, she texted her and told her to prepare for anything, if all went as planned Grace would be in her care within three hours.

They arrived as close to the office complex Grace was being held as possible. There were only three cars in the parking lot so the undertaking shouldn’t be too difficult. Shaw went inside first through the roof of the single storied building, carrying her medical bag strapped to her back, while John took out around the place on foot to check for security cameras.

There were none to be seen so he broke in through one of the windows at the back. Shaw was to meet him in the third room from the front entryway, taking out anyone they came upon along the way, and not by shooting them in the kneecaps.

They weren’t there to incapacitate people, they were there for rescue primarily, but had an unspoken agreement between them that they would take their own form of retribution along the way. No one would be leaving the place alive except for Grace.

It went smooth as silk. The two men Shaw took out were not ready for anything. She had to laugh at how amateur they had been. They obviously had no expectations whatsoever that anyone would be coming to rescue their captive and when she put two in each of their chests, she shook her head with disgust then quickly found the room she’d been looking for.

John looked at his watch, sweat ran down his back. He couldn’t stop thinking about the look on Harold’s face when he’d understood what they had done to him. He’d remember it for the rest of his life, the expression of helplessness and the realization of treachery hurt John, like a punch to the gut.

He put it out of his thoughts as he cracked the door of the room open looked up and down the hall. The place seemed empty but he knew better. He opened the door and had his gun ready, silencer attached firmly to the end of the barrel.

*****

When Shaw got inside the room Grace been held captive in for far too long, being sexually assaulted and tortured without mercy, she was alone and unconscious, lying curled into herself on a filthy full-sized bed with nothing but a thin sheet to cover her naked body.

Shaw looked around quickly and saw three camera’s spaced around the cold room, the first thing she did was take out every one of them with a bullet in each lens.

She rushed over to Grace and slung her gear onto the bed next to the frail figure and pulled out a blood pressure cuff, getting it ready to use. Before she could check Grace’s pulse, her instincts kicked in and she hurried to the doorway, putting her back against the wall, her gun at the ready.

She listened closely and heard voices distantly, coming from the opposite direction she’d just come from. Her adrenaline was pumping hard; she was ready and more than willing to take more lives for what they had done Grace and by extension to Harold. She waited and the voices got louder as they the approached the room.

Grace shifted unconsciously on the bed and began to groan weakly.

But before Shaw could help her, she had to take the men she heard out of action for good.  Then the unmistakable sound of a silencer firing multiple rounds and the thud of bodies falling to the floor alerted her to John’s presence. She stuck her head out in the hall to look and he was stalking down the hall looking for more people to kill.

“Here, hurry up I need you!” Shaw went back inside and John kicked each of the two body’s in the side as he rushed by them.

Just as John made it to the room, Harold’s voice came to life in his ear


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this is it. For better or for worse this has been a fun, torturous job and I enjoyed writing it. Please feel free to let me know whether you guys hated it or not. I won't hold it against anyone who might not like the outcome. I don't blame ya! Hehehe  
> Thank you to everyone who took the time and effort to get through this story with me, it means a great deal to those of us that attempt to put something out there that some people might enjoy. Even the tragic painful ones! You're all great for putting up with my constant heart-breaker stories!

“Is she alive?” Harold asked frantically over the comm. “Is she going to be alright!?” he begged for any news he could get just as soon as he knew they’d found her.

John could hear how worked up and agitated he was. He sounded like he was barely able to contain himself, not like he’d just woken from a heavy sedative. Something was terribly wrong and John felt an intense sense of dread come over him.

But he couldn’t let his fear and worry for his partner take his focus away, he had to play it off for now, he couldn’t let anything interfere from the mission of getting Grace stabilized and transported to Megan immediately.

He stood in the doorway anxiously and watched Shaw trying to insert an IV line into Grace’s arm, “Her veins have all but collapsed.” She stated evenly, “I have to go in through her hand…I’m glad she’s unconscious for this.”

John heard Harold choke back a sob as he'd obviously heard what Shaw had said. He hurried over and was handed a bag of solution to hold while Shaw taped the IV needle to the top of Grace’s hand. John watched intently, ready to aid in any capacity he could until Shaw uncovered her upper body to listen to her heart and inside her chest cavity.

The frail form on the bed was mercifully and utterly unconscious. The pictures on Harold's phone he'd managed to get glimpses of were bad enough, but to see her in the flesh was brutal. Grace was emaciated, the outline of every bone could plainly be seen through her pallid skin. The deep mottled bruising and shallow cuts and abrasions on her battered body made John want to retch. He turned away and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to keep his panicked responses at bay. Then Harold came to the forefront of his thoughts. He tried not to imagine how his partner would react to the sight of the love of his life so beaten and close to death.  He swallowed down his own intense emotions and did his best to pull himself together.

John took a breath and forced a calm into his voice he didn’t feel. “Shaw’s checking her over now. She’s alive Harold and I think she’s going to be okay, just hold on and I’ll tell you as soon as she makes an evaluation.”

He could hear Harold’s frantic breathing over the line and knew that his blood pressure had to be off the charts as he agonized over Grace’s condition. _“Thank you… thank you, God,”_ John heard Harold whisper almost inaudibly.

His heart constricted at the exhalation. Harold had just told him not three hours earlier that he had stopped believing in God, yet here he was, acknowledging him now. John guessed if he were in the same position he’d do the same.

“There’s an ambulance outside now, John. Please hurry and get her to Doctor Tillman.” John heard a stifled sob from Harold before a short pause. John knew his partner was trying to hold it together and gather himself before he added, “And remember what I said,” he choked out. “Please… don’t tell her about me.”

*****

After watching Shaw leave with Grace in the ambulance that was now on its way to Megan Tillman and the private hospital Harold had purchased years ago, John got back to the house and saw unexpectedly that the front door was ajar. He pushed it open warily and stepped inside, instinctively pulling his gun.

As soon as he saw what was happening his heart leapt to his throat.

“He knew John!” Harold seemed manic standing there, sweating profusely and holding a gun to Jason’s head from behind. “He knew all along and said nothing!” John nearly panicked but immediately got himself under control and calmed down. He had to diffuse the situation quickly, Harold wasn’t making a lot of sense and John couldn’t let his state of mind get any more escalated than it was.

“Please, Harold.” he tried placating him even though he wasn’t sure what Harold was talking about, “I don’t know what you’re saying, but it’s not important now, Grace is alive and she’s safe, it’s going to be alright now,” John was feeling the same sense of trepidation as before. “Please, just put the gun down, the man doesn’t deserve to die… you know he doesn’t.”

“Lies!” Harold bit out angrily, “Lies, lies, lies!” he shook his head; he was distressed, seemed indecisive about what was happening for a moment until something seemed to click in his head and he was determined then. “He’s full of lies John and he has to die.” Harold’s frenzied state was highly unpredictable as he stood next to Jason, pushing the barrel of the gun against the man’s temple. Jason wept quietly and closed his eyes, scared out of his mind and hardly able to breath with the tape covering his mouth. Harold was swaying on his feet and his shoulders were visibly slumped from pain and fatigue, his shirt was damp with sweat. “Someone has to pay for what she had to endure for all that time and he’s here.”

Jason didn’t struggle, he just sat there and prayed that it be over quickly and waited for the end.

And then suddenly, within a flash of time it seemed, Harold’s whole manner calmed and he stood up straight to his full height. He was breathing heavily but seemed to have come to some sort of decision when he looked John directly in the eyes.

John saw something there, a flinch maybe, a dilation of his pupils, but in an instant he knew that Harold was going to pull the trigger.

It all happened so fast. Before John realized it, a loud shot rang throughout the room. A quiet gasp escaped from Harold's lips and for a moment, John saw a look of complete shock cross his face, then an almost serene calm and acceptance replaced it just before the gun fell from his hand and he collapsed to his knees. 

“Oh God, Harold!” John dropped his own gun and rushed over to his partner’s side. He wrapped his arms around him and guided him to the floor. Jason was still weeping behind the tape covering his mouth as he watched the tragic scene unfold.

John lifted Harold by his shoulders to lay across his thighs and cradled him in his arms. “Why?” John sobbed, tears flowing freely as he held his dying partner. “Why would you make me do that, Harold… why?”

Harold gasped in pain as the hole in his chest bled profusely, spreading and saturating his dress shirt, painting it a gory crimson red. He looked up at John and smiled weakly. “I knew… I could count… on you,” he tried to chuckle but only ended up coughing and wincing in agony from the effort.

“It’s, okay… John,” he choked on the blood that was forcing its way up through his esophagus, obstructing his airway. It was difficult to talk and to breathe. He tried to swallow it down but it was no use. It trickled from his mouth as he fought to speak. “I’m so sorry… but it… it had to be this way.”

“Harold…” John shook his head, his body shaking with sobs of regret. “Why… why…?”

“Please forgive me… please John… for what…for what I made you do…” Harold’s chest was on fire; he coughed again and grimaced as he struggled to pull enough breath into his lungs to explain. He had to make John understand, “I just… I couldn’t… let Grace, see… what I’d become.” His chest cavity was filling quickly with blood, making each word he spoke sound wet as they left his mouth. “Please… please, don’t tell her… it was me…” His breaths were becoming shallower and more labored by the second. Harold knew he didn’t have much longer and he continued his plea in earnest, “I’m begging you, John… please don’t… don’t sully her… her memory… of me don’t… please god… please don’t…. don’t…”

Harold began to ramble anxiously and John pulled him closer and rocked him, stroking his hand over his sweat dampened hair, “Shhh…” John tried to sooth him, “Shhh, it’s okay Harold. It’s alright… I won’t tell her.”

John’s heart was breaking irreparably as he held his dying partner. The heartrending fear that Harold had of distressing, of repulsing the woman he loved was the final push that sent John over the edge; he pulled Harold closer still, steadying him against his chest as he quickly removed his jacket.

John had to try and stop the blood loss and pressed the bundled garment against Harold’s wound, trying desperately to stint the flow as it continued to seep incessantly from the gaping hole in his chest. _“Ah…!”_ Harold cried out and writhed in John’s arms, trying to push his hand away. The pressure against the wound was unbearable, and Harold’s body began to tremble from shock.

John looked down at his own blood soaked shirt and hands and choked back a sob of anguish, “You didn’t have to do this, Harold,” he lamented. “We could have figured something out.”

Harold smiled up at his lovingly devoted partner and clutched at John’s arm, imploring him to understand as he tried to focus onto John’s eyes. “The damage… had already been done, John.” He was shivering with cold and weakening rapidly, “You saved me… gave me a good end… a better finish… than I deserved.”

John could hardly breathe through the overwhelming, heartbreaking grief he felt. He was rapidly losing the man that had saved him from the world... and from himself.

John gripped Harold’s hand tightly as the life steadily drained from him.

Harold’s entire frame was shaking now as the trauma and blood loss continued to leech every bit of warmth from his failing body. He was struggling ineffectively, it was becoming much, much harder to breathe. John could hear the unmistakable rasping sound of death approaching as he tried to fill his lungs with air. John felt helpless and weak, all he could do was sit there as Harold stared up at him, blinking rapidly, trying to focus on him. 

“John…?” Harold’s senses were thinning and the pain was receding, becoming distant as his vision darkened. He was losing his grasp on life. “John!?” he cried out again fearfully.

“I’m here, Harold.” John choked back a sob and looked into Harold’s frightened, uncertain blue eyes. “I’m here.”

“I only… wanted to fight back… I had to… to try and…” His breaths were clipped and erratic and John could feel his partner’s essence leaving his shuddering body as Harold’s grasp began to slacken in his hand. Then Harold suddenly went still and panic took hold of him. John could see the terror in his eyes, “I fear… I’ve doomed my soul.”

“No, Finch… no you haven’t,” John promised mournfully. “You haven’t.”

John’s eyes filled with tears as Harold visibly relaxed then smiled tenderly from the use of his prior alias. The one Harold had forbidden him to use again, the one that John had grown to love and admire for so long.

“Thank you… John,” he said weakly. “Thank you… for saving her… for every… everything you’ve… given me.” He choked and coughed again violently and John wiped away the blood that ran from his mouth. "You'll never know... how much you've meant to me..."

John looked deeply into his partner’s fading blue eyes. “ _You_ saved _me_ Finch. You gave me everything…” John smiled, he knew it was nearly over for his partner, his best friend, his savior. “But most of all Harold, thank you for always being there for me.” John wiped away his tears and caressed Harold's cheek. 

Harold was finally and utterly at peace. He found the strength to smile into John’s eyes one last time as he realized, “There is… no more pain,” he whispered faintly. “I’m free of it… at last.”

John nodded at him, happy for the small mercy bestowed and held Harold's hand to his chest as tears streamed down his cheeks, “I’m glad, Finch…”  He watched Harold close his eyes, the smile never leaving his face and he pulled his waning body tightly against his chest.  He embraced him until Harold’s shivering stopped and his breathing slowed into almost nothing.

For a time, John just held him there, hugging him quietly until Harold’s body completely relaxed in his arms. Then he heard a breath catch in Harold’s throat just before he exhaled for the last time.

He took his own time with Harold, rocking him in his arms. He relaxed his hold, kissed his forehead and grieved for the man he had known and loved for so long… the man that had come back at the end of his life to say goodbye to him…

The man he knew as Harold Finch.

THE END

 


End file.
